When Hope is Lost
by Descole'sApprentice
Summary: One rainy night, Layton finds Descole injured and forsaken. Layton will do whatever it takes to help his brother, but at what cost? Will Descole even survive? (Takes place about a month after Unwound Future. A bit of an AU for Claire's survival.)
1. The Encounter

As puddles grew alongside the quiet streets of London, Hershel Layton briskly hurried down the wet, dark street. Now that it was raining fairly heavily, he regretted having had walked to the university today. However, he didn't mind too much, because had given up his vehicle for his wife, Claire, to take to the lab today. He was ashamed for not having taken an umbrella when he left, it was only common sense for a Londoner. He had been working late this Friday night, and he **knew** he would be in for a scolding once he reached home; not only for being late, but also for being soaked. Flora was staying with Layton's parents for the weekend, and he had promised them he wouldn't stay up later than midnight researching, and they had told Claire to enforce that. He was now only a few blocks away from his flat now as it neared eleven.

As Hershel tried to hurry home before getting completely drenched, he heard sounds coming from somewhere. He stopped in his tracks as he tried to block out the sound of the pattering rain to identify the sound. It almost sounded like a cry of anguish. After the cry, there were clanging sounds. Layton tried his best to follow the mysterious noise down the winding alleyways. It began growing louder and more audible as Layton drew nearer. Layton gasped as he realised he knew that voice. His heart began to pound violently.

"Descole...?" He whispered aloud as he nervously hurried down an alley to find him. When he heard that the sound was just around the next corner, he stopped and listened to find out what was going on.

"Agh!" The voice grunted, then more metallic clangs followed. It sounded as if he were hitting a myriad of objects with his sword, Layton thought. Layton wasn't sure if he should make an appearance during Descole's anger, but before he could ponder a thought, Descole sprung out from behind the corner and swung fiercely. Although surprised, Layton managed to dodge the attack. The sword struck the brick wall behind him, missing him by mere inches. Descole and Layton, both breathing heavily, only stared at each other for several seconds before either of them said anything.

"Descole... it's been a long time," Layton said, eyes wide, very shocked to see him.

Descole lowered his sword, but kept it by his side. "Excuse me. I thought you were an accursed rat, Brother," Descole turned away from him and stumbled back towards the alley he was in. By the manner in which Descole returned to the alley, walking stiffly and grunting, Layton could tell he was in a considerable amount of pain. Layton followed him, confused that Descole seemed entirely oblivious to the fact he had just seen his long lost brother. Descole returned to destroying everything in the alleyway.

"Descole, what on earth are you doing?!" Layton shouted over his ruckus.

"Shut up, Layton! Leave me alone!" Descole threw all of his might into cutting a wooden crate into pieces. He swung roughly and groaned. "Agh!"

"You're clearly in no state to be left alone! What's wrong? What do you intend to accomplish by this madness?!" Layton scolded.

"He's dead! Everyone I cared about is gone! I have no reason to live!" Descole still swung his sword in rage.

"Descole, stop this immediately!" Layton commanded, putting a firm foot down a step closer to Descole.

"No! You cannot tell me what to do!" Descole drew his sword back slowly with weary arms, becoming tired. As he went to swing at some crates a final time, he gasped in pain and dropped the sword. The clanging of the sword hitting the ground echoed through the alley as Descole weakly fell to his knees gasping for breath.

"Descole!" Layton hurried over to him. Layton kneeled and reached out to put a hand on his shoulder.

"Don't touch me!" Descole hissed, slapping Layton's hand away.

"Descole, please—"

"Layton... get out of here **now**... or I'll make you," Descole panted.

Layton was silent. He cautiously attempted to put his hand on Descole's shoulder again. Descole picked up his sword again and weakly threw himself at Layton. Layton grabbed his wrist tightly, causing him to cry out as he dropped the sword again. Descole went limp, falling onto the brick, wet ground. Layton turned Descole over gently and held him in his arms so that he was laying on his back.

"Agh!" Descole groaned as he clutched his side. "Let go of me!" Descole attempted to sit up, but fell back down writhing in pain. Layton tried to hold the struggling, soaked Descole down.

"What happened to you? Descole, I beg of you, please cooperate with me," Layton implored.

Not willing to listen, Descole still struggled to get away from Layton's grasp. "No! I hate you! I hate everything!" He growled, squirming to free himself.

"Descole! Listen to me!" Layton said very firmly, trying harder than even to keep him down. "You have no choice! You **must** tell me what happened to you."

Descole growled in annoyance, or perhaps pain, Layton thought. Descole gave up trying to get away, although he was still quite stiff. He realised Layton was right. He really didn't have a choice. Layton was going to keep holding him there until he got answers. "T-Targent..." Was all he could mutter though his laboured breaths as he convulsed.

Layton's eyes grew wide at the mention of the organisation which was thought to be defeated.

"They're— ngh— still out there..." Descole continued. "You m- must leave me now... If they find out you're helping me... they'll take away all that is dear to you..."

Layton was confused by this statement, but he was more concerned about Descole's health. He was shivering uncontrollably from the cold, and tensing from unbearable pain. Layton needed to get him help. "What did they do to you? Where do you hurt?" Layton questioned.

"Everywhere... ngh..." Descole grunted.

"We need to get you to a hospital immed—"

"NO!" Descole shouted, springing up, but this outburst was too much for his injured body to handle. He cried out as he collapsed back down into Layton's arms in defeat. His voice was tight as he uttered out his plea. "No... please don't... I beg of you..."

"... All right," Layton hesitantly agreed. "But you can't just stay here. You're injured, soaking wet, and freezing. You need some sort of shelter."

"And how do you propose I find shelter? Targent has taken everything from me..." Descole voice shook in pain.

"Come with me, for the time being. Please don't argue about this," Layton pleaded.

Descole sighed. "I'd rather die... but I know you won't let me have my wish of being left alone. I see I don't really have a choice... Fine."


	2. Descole's Pain

When they finally reached Layton's home, Layton knocked on the door, unable to find his key while supporting Descole. Descole had his arm slung around his brother's neck weakly, and Layton's arm was across the back of Descole's shoulders, trying his hardest to hold him in a standing position. After a short while, Claire began unlocking the door.

"Hershel, where were you?! I was getting worri—" The red haired woman gasped in shock as she had fully opened the door to see the injured, masked man her husband had brought home.

"Claire... we need to talk," Hershel said seriously, hanging onto his weak brother who was gasping in pain, about to collapse.

Claire was still frozen in surprise with wide eyes, but then she snapped out of her daze. "O- Oh! I'm sorry, dear, bring him in," Claire stepped out of the way, letting them enter. "I didn't mean to make you stand out in the rain. Let me get you two dry clothes."

Claire left for the bedroom. As Descole and Layton stood there soaked, Descole had many questions.

"You... have a wife?" Descole asked quietly, still shivering slightly, but seemed a little less pained now that their journey here was over.

Layton sighed. "It's a long story... but yes. I couldn't be happier."

"Hmm..." Descole hummed, still wanting to know the rest of the story. He shook his last shiver out, and stood up a little straighter.

"Do you think you're able to stand by yourself?" Layton asked, realising he wasn't supporting much of Descole's weight anymore.

"Yes... I believe so..." Descole slowly let go of his brother, although he was still a bit unstable and hunched over.

Claire returned with dry nightclothes for each of them, and Layton showed Descole to the spare room and bathroom. After painfully changing into dry clothing, Descole was completely exhausted. He collapsed onto the bed in the spare bedroom, relieving his sore muscles of some of their pain.

After Layton had finished preparing himself for bed, he and Claire went to check on Descole.

Hershel knocked on the door. "Descole?"

A sigh of annoyance could be heard from the other side. "Leave me alone, Layton," His voice still sounded in pain.

"I only want to make sure you're all right," Layton said.

Descole didn't answer, and Layton took that as his opportunity to enter. He opened the door slowly.

"Is there anything else you need?" Layton asked, flipping on the light switch and walking over to Descole.

Descole now looked more like Desmond Sycamore since he was not wearing his disguise. Layton could only see the right side of his face, for Descole had his face turned away from him, unwilling to answer his question. After Layton saw a dark blemish along the edge of his jaw, he figured he must be hiding more injuries by looking away from him. Descole's damp, unruly brown hair around his face could have been covering some, as well. Not only did he appear to be hiding injuries by being turned away, but Layton sensed that Descole felt exposed, Layton now knowing his true identity. Layton had never looked into the eyes of Desmond Sycamore knowing that he was his brother.

"Please, look at me," Layton implored kindly and calmly.

Descole closed his eyes tightly and drew a deep breath. He thought about his options, realising that he was going to have to face him eventually. He turned his head towards Layton, eyes still closed. Opening his pained eyes very slowly, he looked into Layton's eyes, realising how vulnerable he was. There was absolutely **nothing** he could hide from Layton now. He wanted his mask to hide his pain and emotions behind; he regretted having left it in the bathroom where the rest of his clothes were drying. Even his glasses would have helped slightly at the moment, but now it was as if he didn't have any persona to keep the wall up between him and his brother.

Now that Descole was fully facing him, Layton could see the great pain in his bloodshot eyes. He noticed a dried, slanted cut just above his brother's left eyebrow that disappeared under the hair covering his forehead. There was no telling how deep it could be. This tired, hurting man that lay before him was his brother. Right then, Hershel felt the burden and responsibility to take care of his brother, and to do whatever it took to get him out of this pain.

"Please, answer my question. Is there anything we can do for you?"

"No... you don't even know how heavenly it feels to lie on an actual bed..." Descole sighed weakly. Although he appeared less like Descole, his voice still sounded deep and coarse. Desmond Sycamore truly was gone, and Descole was all that was left of the man.

"Are you sure you don't need anything?" Claire asked. "You must be absolutely chilled to the bone. I'd be happy to cook you up something warm, and if you're not hungry, I could make you a cup of tea."

"Tea sounds divine... but I wouldn't want to trouble you at this hour," Descole said.

"Oh, it's no trouble! Really!" Claire began to leave.

"Claire, wait a moment..." Layton put his hand on her shoulder to keep her from leaving. "I have to tell you something..."

"It's fine, Hershel. I know you're extremely tired. You can tell me later," Claire took his hand from off of her shoulder and held it.

"No... You need to know now," Hershel held her hand tighter.

"Oh... All right, then."

Layton took a deep breath. "It wasn't until about a year ago until I discovered who this man is..." Layton took another pause as he gathered the courage to say it. "He's... my estranged biological brother, Claire."

Claire's eyes grew in shock. "Oh..." She didn't know what to say.

"I would've have told you about him sooner, Dear, but a time never presented itself in our past month together. I also wasn't sure he was even alive until I found him tonight," Layton admitted.

"No, no, it's fine... it's just quite a shock... Do your parents know about him?" Claire asked, knowing that Hershel was adopted.

"They know I have a brother, yes... but I believe that's about all they know."

"What... happened to him?" Claire asked, sounding almost too frightened to ask.

"I'm not sure... I get the impression he'd rather not tell me, though."

"That would be correct," Descole muttered. "Layton, I only ask you to leave me alone. You two are speaking to each other as if I'm not here, so why don't you just leave and let me sleep in peace."

"I still want to make sure you're all right," Layton said concernedly, taking a step closer to him.

"I'll go make your tea," Claire said. "How would you like it?"

"Earl Grey, one sugar, and just a little milk, please," Descole said, glancing at Layton.

Layton and Claire looked at each other, realising that was the same exact way Layton liked his tea.

"Would you like some tea, Hershel?" Claire asked.

"No, thank you, Love," Hershel smiled tiredly.

"All right, I'll be right back," Claire smiled back at him, then left.

After she had closed the door, Layton asked his question again. "I don't mean to pry, but... what harm can come from telling me what happened to you?" Layton asked.

Descole didn't answer right away. "I suppose you're right. It cannot hurt to tell you... We thought they had been defeated, but Targent isn't— Ugh—" Descole stopped as he put his hand over his abdomen. "Maybe it **will** hurt to tell you..."

"I really ought to make sure you're not seriously injured," Layton urged.

Descole scowled in disgust. "I'm fine... There's no need for your concern..."

Layton was silent in thought for a few seconds as he glanced at Descole's stiff, tense, posture. "Descole... did... did Targent... torture you?"

Descole wouldn't answer. He couldn't maintain eye contact with Layton. Looking away, he swallowed.

"Please, let me make sure you're all right," Layton implored.

Descole's silence lasted even longer this time. Layton could see that he was in much pain. Descole finally spoke. "Fine... as long as you **swear** you won't pity me..."

"I wouldn't dream of it," Layton said as he came to check Descole's injuries.

Descole threw the bed covers down to his waist and slowly unbuttoned his nightshirt to reveal several dark bruises and abrasions that covered his chest and abdomen. Layton cringed at the sight. Descole's slightly protruding ribs and sunken stomach told Layton that he had suffered malnutrition; however Layton had the impression that malnutrition was a previous disorder before his encounter with Targent.

"You agreed you would refrain from pitying me, Layton," Descole said flatly, observing Layton's facial expression.

"I apologise, I just didn't realise it would be so severe..." Layton said sadly.

Descole rolled his eyes. "I should've known you couldn't help but pity me."

"I'm not pitying you, I'm only concerned," Layton explained.

"Ugh, isn't concern the equivalent to pity?" Descole complained. "See why I'd be better off dead?"

"Enough!" Layton scolded. "You're acting like a child," He continued to examine Descole's injuries. "Do you think anything is broken?"

"How would I know?" Descole spat. "I'm in too much pain to tell the difference."

"All right... Tell me if this hurts," Layton reached out towards him.

Descole quickly slapped his hand away. " **Don't** even think about touching me!" He growled lowly.

"Descole, I must. I will stop if I'm hurting you," Layton agreed. Without receiving further permission, Layton gently applied light pressure to his bruised areas. Descole tensed further, but didn't make a sound.

When Layton's hand reached Descole's right upper side, he grimaced and inhaled sharply as he pulled Layton's hand from off of him.

"I apologise. I wouldn't be surprised if you had a fractured rib or two," Layton said, sincerely distressed.

As the door opened back up, Descole quickly pulled the bed covers up to his neck to hide his injuries. Trying to calm his laboured breaths, he swallowed.

Claire entered the room and stood by her husband's side. "Here's your tea," Claire spoke lightheartedly, even at this late hour, being past midnight.

"Thank you. You're most kind, Claire," Descole thanked sincerely without smiling as he reached out and took the cup.

"You're very welcome. I'll leave the two of you to talk. But please come to bed soon, Hershel. It's past midnight."

"Of course, Claire," Hershel nodded as she left just as quickly as she had entered.

"I believe this is for you," Descole handed Layton the cup. "I know you want it. You just didn't want to trouble your wife to make you a cup."

Layton was stunned. He took a step backwards. "I- I don't understand... How do you know so much about me?"

"You know I watched your every move as your opponent. Why are you so surprised?"

"She's going to ask you how your tea was," Layton raised his eyebrows, pushing the cup back towards him.

"Well then, you can tell me how it tastes so I'll know how to answer her," Descole still held the cup out to Layton, his hand shaking weakly.

"She went to all this trouble for you in the middle of the night, now can you please stop acting so childish? It will help warm you up."

Descole refused to speak or move the cup away from Layton. Eventually, Layton took it from him and set aside on the bed stand.

"I wish I could drink it," Descole started. "but I cannot possibly consume anything at the moment. I doubt I could even keep something as calming as tea down, sadly," The British man moped.

Layton sighed, knowing that was a truly tragic statement. "Then you'd better just get some rest, Descole."

"Do you really think I can rest with this pain?" Descole asked in an irritated tone, his voice becoming weaker as he became more tired.

"Hmm..." Layton hummed in response. Noticing the bed covers weren't completely pulled up around Descole side, Layton spotted a laceration on Descole's side where his nightshirt wasn't covering. The deep cut appeared to wrap around onto his back.

Pulling the covers back down to Descole's waist, Layton asked, "Can you lie on your left side?"

"Why?" Descole questioned. "Can you please stop playing doctor?"

Layton sighed. "Must you question everything I ask of you? You know I'm only concerned for your wellbeing."

Descole scowled as he slowly rolled onto his side whilst groaning. As he turned, Layton grabbed the sleeve of his nightshirt to remove it as he rolled. Once Layton removed the sleeve and Descole's entire back was exposed, Layton gasped. Seeing several red stripes and slashes covering Descole's back, Layton was speechless in horror for nearly half a minute. Some were just pink and raw from some layers of skin being torn, but others were deep, bloody slashes that had dried.

"Descole... why... why did they do this to you?" Layton said, his voice full of sorrow.

"It's Targent, Layton... ngh... isn't that explanation enough?" Descole uttered weakly.

"You need medical attention, Descole," Layton warned.

"Whatever. You can be the doctor, since you're so intent on examining my every injury. Do what you can yourself. You're intelligent," Descole said cooly, as if it were not an urgent matter.

"You need an actual doctor," Layton excused. "You're injured severely; I cannot ensure your survival. Why are you so against to going to a hospital?"

"Because Targent would know to look for me there," Descole answered simply.

"London is huge with many hospitals. I doubt—"

"Layton, you know what Targent is like! They followed us all over the world. They will find me if you take me to a hospital! But that's not all. I do not trust hospitals and doctors... those incompetent, drug delivering, swindling fools... They care about their paycheck more than their patients."

"Not all doctors are like that," Layton tried to sway.

"Layton, Targent could even find me here. You do understand that you're endangering yourself and your wife by letting me stay here, don't you?"

Layton hadn't thought of this until now. He also thought about Flora and his parents getting involved with Targent. He looked at Descole's back again. It was bad enough this had happened to his brother, but he couldn't bear the thought of something like this happening to Claire or Flora. Yet, he also couldn't abandon Descole in his time of need.

"I suppose it's a risk I'll have to take..." Layton swallowed. "I'll do what I can for you. But if you start feeling worse, you'll need to see a doctor."

"Hah, as if it's possible to feel worse..." Descole rolled his eyes.

Layton bandaged and cleaned what he could and tried to ease Descole's pain. After Layton had done so, Descole seemed to be able to relax a little more.

"Is there anything else you need?" Layton asked.

Descole shook his head. He was too exhausted to say anything more.

"I'll let you rest," Layton said, acknowledging his fatigue. Right before Layton was about to exit, Descole stopped him.

"Wait," Descole uttered with the last of his strength.

Layton turned back around. "What is it?"

Descole closed his eyes. "Thank you, Layton... for everything..." He said sincerely, his voice sounding more like Sycamore's and not Descole's.

Layton's stressed face broke into a small smile, happy that he was able to help. "You're welcome. Don't hesitate to wake me if you need anything."

After Layton closed the door, he sighed. Not only was he concerned about Descole, he was also concerned about what Targent may try to do if they found him and Descole. His thoughts wandered while he headed for his room.


	3. Claire's Advice

**Thank you to all of you who have followed my story and to those who are reading it! I have about half the story written already, so updates will start to be slower around chapter 10. Please leave a review to let me know what you like/want to see more of! (Yes, I know I'm being rather mean to Descole in this story. -.- Yes, things will start getting better for him eventually... maybe.)**

Once he entered his room, he looked at Claire. She was so peacefully sitting in bed reading a book by lamp light. From her wavy red hair to her flawless porcelain skin, Hershel though she was the most beautiful woman in the entire world. When she looked up at him and set her book aside, Hershel felt a bit more at ease knowing he had her to comfort him. He sighed and put a hand on the back of his neck as he walked over to his side of the bed.

"I don't know what to say, Claire..."

"What's eating at you?" Claire asked, wrapping her arms around her husband as he sat next to her.

"I'm just so worried for him..." Hershel closed his eyes and rested his head on the headboard of their bed. "He's injured terribly... but he refuses to be taken to a hospital."

"Sometimes you just need to do what's best for those you love, Hershel. Even if they don't like it," Claire advised, rubbing her fingers into the back of his neck. This caused Hershel to let a breath out and let the tension fall from his shoulders.

"I'm just afraid he might lose control of his emotions if I tell him he doesn't have a choice," The professor admitted. "The first time I suggested medical help, he nearly hurt himself further..."

Claire guided exhausted Hershel's head down to her shoulder. "I suppose I don't know what advice to give you, then... Just lie down and rest for now, Dearest. You can figure out what to do tomorrow."

Hershel sunk down into bed as Claire pulled the covers over him. "Sleep well, Hershel," She said, leaning over him.

"I'll certainly try, Claire... I love you," Layton said endearingly.

"I love you, too," Claire leaned down and slowly kissed him.

Hershel closed his eyes as he kissed her back. He knew he couldn't live without her. How did she always know how to lighten his stress and calm his worries? He ran his hand through her soft, wavy hair as she pulled away and looked into her dark eyes that beautifully reflected the lamplight. "I don't know what I'd do without you, Claire," Hershel whispered.

"You managed ten years without me," Claire whispered back smirking, resting her head against his shoulder.

"But those were a ten lonely years... and with Luke moving away and Flora at school all the time, I don't know what I would have done... Life would be much harder without you, Claire. I'm so thankful that the time machine worked."

"I feel the same way, Hershel..." Claire sighed, turning away from him to turn the lamp off, then quickly cuddled up next to him again. "Goodnight, Dear."

As they lay in the dark, Hershel's thoughts wouldn't rest. He wasn't sure why exactly Targent was after Descole, but he sounded extremely serious about this affair. Layton decided that tomorrow he would get his questions answered by Descole.

Layton lay still, unable to fall asleep. He lay for hours on end, unable to do anything but think without waking Claire. He looked at the alarm clock on his nightstand to see it was nearing three in the morning. The only thing he could think of was why, just why was Targent after Descole? Why had they caused him so much grief? Hadn't they already scarred him enough in past times? His thoughts then wandered to his own family. Targent had threatened Layton's parents before, but never quite so seriously. Flora and Claire... He couldn't bear the thought of Claire being taken away from him so suddenly after they had been reunited. Flora was so young and such a lighthearted, sweet girl. Could anyone ever wish evil on either of them? It could not be. Suddenly, Layton heard a sharp, pained cry. After thinking about Targent for so long, he feared the worst. He sat up quickly, accidentally waking Claire.

"What's wrong?" Claire asked her husband while sitting up. As she spoke, he stood up and headed for the door.

"I heard my brother, wait here," Hershel rushed to the room where Descole was, dreading terribly that Targent had already found them.


	4. Descole's Story

**This chapter is a bit long (makes up for the long wait, but feel free to take breaks! It's gonna be intense!)**

 **Shout out to my followers and especially ImmortalSpuffy202 for the nice review! (I forgot to mention to ya'll, constructive criticism is appreciated, just please be nice ;))**

Layton opened the door to see a silhouette in the moonlight of Descole weakly sitting and convulsing. He was supporting himself by one arm while breathing heavily. Quickly, Layton ran to the nightstand to turn on the lamp to make sure no one was lurking in the shadows. He looked around, and was relieved that it wasn't Targent troubling him, but he was still considerably worried seeing Descole in this state.

"What happened? What's the matter?" Layton asked, walking around to the front of the bed to see his face.

Descole wouldn't answer, nor look Layton in the eyes. He turned his face further away from Hershel, his breathing labored.

"What's wrong?" Layton asked again.

Descole hung his head, closed his eyes, and swallowed.

"Desmond, please," Layton tried to put his hand on his brother's shoulder, but Descole rejected his comfort by brushing Layton's hand away.

"Was it a nightmare?" Layton asked before sitting silently on the edge of the bed, facing him.

Descole took as deep a breath he could without hurting his bruised ribs. "L- Layton... I'm fine, l- leave me alone..." Descole voice sounded weaker and more emotional than Layton had ever heard before.

"You don't sound fine," Layton raised an eyebrow.

Descole stayed silent. He groaned as he slowly sunk back into the bed. Now that he was laying down and the light was shining on his face, Layton could see the tears running down Desmond's face. "I'm fine, really. It was only... a sharp pain, it's gone now. You can leave," His voice still shook.

Layton would not accept his excuses. "Descole... why don't you trust me?" Layton sounded hurt by his brother's distance towards him.

Descole rolled his eyes and sighed, trying to clear his voice. He wiped the tears from his face. "You know I don't trust anyone... What makes you think I had a nightmare anyway?"

"It seemed pretty clear to me... I know what they're like. You're not the only one who has nightmares..." Layton admitted.

Descole raised a disgusted eyebrow. He scowled. "If you're asking for pity, you've come to the wrong man. As if you know what just **half** of my suffering is like... As if you know what it's like to lose your wife and daughter..."

"You're right... I don't. Although I do have a pretty fair idea of what it's like to lose your wife."

"You mean... Claire and the time machine incident, don't you?" Descole asked, wanting to make his brother feel uneasy as payback for intruding.

Layton's eyes grew and his breathing quickened. He backed away from Descole a bit, beginning to feel uncomfortable. "How... do you know about that?"

Descole shot a cold glare towards his brother, still upset with him. "Why does it matter how I know?"

"It makes sense that you would have been shadowing me when I was your opponent, but... Claire's supposed death happened many years beforehand..." Layton tried hard to maintain his composure. Thinking about when he had lost Claire was too painful for him. "You were watching out for me... were you not?"

Descole sighed, letting go of all his anger, although he was still a bit irritated. He realised his true intentions needed to be told now. "Yes... As Desmond Sycamore... I... was always watching out for you... When I heard about the explosion at the institute that killed your girlfriend, I- I wanted to be there for you..." Descole swallowed, trying not to get emotional again.

Layton was surprised by his confession.

"When I went to your home, you weren't there. I checked in several times that month, but you were never there. I eventually discovered that you had been beaten unconscious and remained in a coma for nearly a month. I went to see you, but you began to wake. I... I could not bring myself to face you... not after so many years of separation. I wasn't ready... But how is Claire still alive now?"

Layton let out a breath. "The time machine was set to send her ten years in the future, and, well, it's been ten years since that day. The time machine worked only a second before the explosion. She's now here with me. Although I had that taste of losing my love, I can't even begin to imagine what it's like to lose a child. If Luke or Flora would have been hurt or killed on any of those adventures... I would never forgive myself. But enough about me. Descole, is there something you need to tell me?"

"No," Descole clenched his teeth, still putting up a fight even though his shield was beginning to break. His emotions had gotten the best of him, and now Layton was going to know everything if he wasn't careful. Descole refused for that to happen. He could be strong; he didn't need Layton's support. "Why do you insist upon knowing everything about my pitiful life?! I've tried not to lose my temper with you, but I see my patience is getting me nowhere. Layton, I don't even want to be here! I hate everything, I hate you!" Descole shouted, now breathing heavily in rage.

Layton was taken aback at his outburst, confused, seeing as Descole was concerned about him a few seconds prior. Layton stayed silent for several seconds, not wanting to anger him further. "I know you don't mean that."

"I do mean it!" Descole retorted in rage, only causing the tears he was holding back to fall. "If you're really a 'true gentleman', then do as I ask. Leave me be!" Descole's voice quivered. "You have no right to be inquiring about my personal life!"

"A true gentleman doesn't leave people in need... and more importantly, a true brother would always be there for his brother, whether he likes it or not," Layton said, truly concerned.

"I- I'm not in need... and I certainly don't need your help..." Descole denied weakly, intensely breathing.

"You need to get whatever this is off your chest. I can tell this burden is eating you alive. You know I would never judge you, and you know that you can trust me. I'm not leaving until you talk to me about this."

"Hah, as if you can make me talk..." Descole spat.

Layton didn't answer. He sat silently, waiting for Descole to speak. Descole knew he was waiting for him to say something. Second after silent second, the tension grew more unbearable for Descole. Minutes past very slowly. Descole couldn't take it much longer, especially with his physical pain making him uncomfortable as well.

"Just... say something, Layton... S- Stop looking at me like that..."

Layton didn't answer. He continued to sit in silence.

"You're not getting anything out of me... you know that, don't you, Layton?"

Still, Layton wouldn't speak. Descole closed his eyes and tried to ignore him, but the more he thought about his past, the worse the silence became. Descole's breathing became uneasy as the quietness disturbed him more than he could handle. Eventually, his shield crumbled and he broke, knowing he had nothing to hide from his brother.

"Elaine... my wife's name was Elaine..." Descole sighed. "When I first became a well known archaeologist, Targent wanted me to join them; but I peacefully declined their offer, and no violence was needed. But soon, they gave up the easy way and they began to threaten me... and my family. I- I was able to avoid them for many years, and hide it from my wife and daughter, but eventually..." Descole stopped as he tried to regain his composure. He swallowed as tears streamed down his face. "They found us. Targent broke into our home one night... looking for an artifact I had found...

* * *

SLAM! A door shut violently.

Desmond's eyes flashed open in the darkness, his heart racing faster than he knew was possible. They were here. They finally found him. He sat up quickly, adrenaline pumping through his veins.

"Desmond..." Elaine yawned, sitting up slowly. "What... was that sound?"

Desmond wouldn't answer. He couldn't think. He seemed as if he didn't hear her.

She turned on the lamp by their bed which lit their large, elegant room dimly. Forgetting about the sound that had echoed throughout their mansion, she gently tried shake her husband out of his blank stare. "Desmond? What's wrong? Was it another nightmare?"

A bead of sweat trickled down his forehead as he swallowed. He began to shake, his fearsome eyes wide.

"Dearest, please tell me what is—" Elaine stopped and gasped when she heard heavy, thundering footsteps getting closer to their room. She clung to her husband's back, looking over his shoulder as their door burst open.

"Desmond Sycamore! You have something we want," A mysterious man with a deep voice said, three other men entering behind him. They all wore dark uniforms and sunglasses, despite it being nighttime. No doubt, they were Targent. The bearded leader with light hair, sunglasses, and a more professional look seemed familiar to Desmond, but he was too frightened to recognize that the man was his father. They slowly approached their bedside.

Desmond would have stood his ground, but the men surrounding the bed were too close for him to stand up. He had no choice but to sit there and only hope that he could protect his wife. "W- Who are you?! What are you talking about?! And what are you doing in my home?!" Desmond finally shouted, having to be courageous for his wife.

"You know what I'm talking about! That artifact you've just discovered. We need it for our Azran research. We tried doing things the easy way with you before, but some people need extra incentive... You've given me no choice but to do this the hard way," The stranger smirked, nodding to his henchmen. Two of them began walking around to the other side of the bed to pull Elaine away from Desmond.

"Stay away from her!" Desmond growled angrily, protective wrapping his arms around her as she buried her face into his chest, about in tears. "Don't you dare lay a single finger on her, or I'll—"

Hands from behind pried Desmond away from his wife and held his arms behind his back. She shrieked as they pulled her away from her husband. They dragged her from off of the bed, one restraining each of her arms, and brought her over to Bronev, in front of Desmond.

"What is going on?!" She cried, tears filling her eyes.

"Don't worry, Elaine. It just seems your beloved husband has been keeping many, many secrets from you,"

"I'm so sorry, Elaine..." Desmond apologised, closing his eyes in distress. He looked back into her eyes. "I'm sorry I've kept this hidden from you so long."

"Sycamore. We know you are a stubborn one. There's only one way to do this," Bronev nodded to the man holding Desmond back. Swiftly, the man whipped out a blade and held it under Desmond's throat, pinning him against the headboard of the bed with his other hand. Sycamore groaned in discomfort.

"NO! DESMOND!" Elaine screamed, tears finally streaming down her face in abundance as she struggled to free herself. She sunk her elbow into a guard's stomach, but it only angered him. He quickly grabbed her wavy brown hair close to her scalp and aggressively pulled her to her knees, causing her to cry out.

"Leave. Her. Alone!" Desmond's voice became deep and hateful, his eyes shooting a sharp glare at all the men by Elaine. Ignoring the knife underneath his throat, he was more concerned for Elaine's sake.

"I see your great love for each other will be useful to get information out of each other, but that will be for another day. Elaine, all you must do is tell us where he's hidden his most recent artifact, and we will take it and be on our way," Bronev explained simply.

"I already told you: I don't have any Azran artifacts! Everything I've found has been safely taken to a museum for display and further research!" Desmond fumed.

"Hah! An esteemed archaeologist such as yourself has no Azran relics in his possession for personal research? And no doubt, the famous Professor Sycamore: the one and only expert on the Azran civilisation," Bronev wasn't convinced. He looked down at Elaine. "Where is it?!"

"I- I don't know! I- I swear, I really don't! Don't hurt him, please!" Elaine shouted desperately, new tears pouring from her eyes. "H- He keeps everything in his study, but that's all I know! I- If you go look, I- I'm sure you could find—"

"Isn't that a bit broad of a location, though? We'd much rather know exactly where it is," Bronev nodded to the agent holding Desmond back. He made the knife make contact with Desmond's skin.

"NO!" Elaine wept, struggling more.

All became silent as there was a soft knock at the door.

"Mum? Daddy? Are... are you okay?" A sweet voice asked.

One guard left Elaine's side to open the door. Elaine and Desmond were left speechless, dreadfully frightened for their daughter's sake.

As the guard put his hand on the doorknob, Desmond spoke up. "Jean, go back to bed, now! We're fine!" His hurried voice didn't sound convincing.

As the man opened the door, he grabbed the eight year old by the upper arm and dragged her into the room. Her eyes matched her father's— brown and fearful. Once she laid eyes on the knife under her father's throat, tears filled her eyes. "Daddy!" Jean cried, trying to run to him, but the man wrapped his arms around her small body tightly, making it impossible to move. She sobbed, hanging her head, her messy brown hair hanging in her face.

"Aha..." The leader smirked, approaching the little girl. "Perhaps you know where your Daddy put his Azran trinket, girl? We promise we won't hurt him..." Bronev kneeled and put a hand under her chin. She closed her eyes as he guided her face towards him. "if you tell us where he put it."

"Jeannie, don't listen to th— Agh!" Desmond groaned in pain as he felt the blade pierce his flesh. He grimaced while staying completely still and holding his breath, afraid that any sudden movements would result in slitting his throat completely.

Jean blinked the tears away from her eyes to see a trail of blood running down her father's neck. More tears filled her eyes as she shouted. "I- It's in his study! I- In his desk... he has a secret panel in a drawer... I- It's hidden behind there..."

"Come show me. Then we will leave you and your parents alone," The bearded man persuaded.

Jean shakily left the room with the commander. Shortly after, they entered again, Bronev holding the artifact in his hand.

"Let them go," He commanded. The agents released Desmond and Elaine, returning to their master's side. Jean and Elaine hurried over to Desmond, who was grasping at his neck that had been slightly cut.

"Just remember this as a lesson, Sycamore. I will not hesitate to come back if you have something I want! I know I've asked before, but you should still consider joining us. With your knowledge, we could uncover the secrets of the Azran in no time! It won't be long before I lose my patience with you... and **make** you join us," Bronev growled as he and his henchman left.

* * *

"It pained me terribly to know I couldn't protect the ones I loved any l- longer... They know how to get the answers they want. Bronev was so cruel... he knew seeing my blood would scare Jeannie into telling him," Descole said, running his hand across a scar on his neck.

"I noticed your scar while we traveled together... I figure now that's why you wore a feather scarf as part of your disguise," Layton deduced.

"Yes... that's partly why I wore it..." Descole trailed off, returning to the end of his story. "We were safe for a while longer, but... It wasn't even a year later when they... they... killed them. I took Elaine and Jeannie for granted... I didn't believe Bronev when he said he would kill them if I didn't join... and now I- I've lost them... forever... and it's all my fault," Descole swallowed, his voice breaking now that he had poured his soul out to Layton. "I despise Bronev for what he did, but... you don't know... what the guilt is like. To live every day knowing I could've done or said something different. To know that perhaps they could still be with me today..."

By this point, Descole was weakly sobbing, still trying hold his tears back, but failing. Not able to breathe lying down, he sat up, only making the pain worse. He wept with his head hung forward.

"Descole, that's... so terrible..." Layton said with a heavy heart, holding back tears himself at his brother's story and appearance. He put his hand on his shoulder, and Descole didn't fight this time. Layton pulled him into an embrace. Descole buried his face into his brother's shoulder as he wept.

"I- I'm sorry you have to see me like this..." Descole apologised.

"Descole, don't say that. There's nothing wrong with showing emotion... you've suffered greatly."

Descole said no more. He was past the point of trying to regain his composure. He only mourned, gripping the back of his brother's shirt. After a while, he said, "Why... why did Targent have to ruin our lives...? We did nothing to deserve being ripped away from our parents. And when they took the family that I had started only made me hate them further... Agh—" Suddenly a sharp pain caused Descole to pull out of the embrace. He fell back down breathing heavily. Layton kept his hand on his shoulder.

"Descole—"

"Layton, please—" Descole stopped as he grimaced. "Please... let me be... I'd rather suffer here and die than be taken to a hospital where Targent could find me, take me, and torture me more..."

"Descole, I understand you don't want more pain but I will see to it that Targent does not take you," Layton pleaded.

"B- But... Then you'll be in danger yourself..."

"Descole, I know you're trying to protect me and my family... but you don't need to do this," Layton begged.

Descole lay tense and rigid. He gasped for breath as he tried to speak. "They- they took Raymond from me... t- they killed him..." Descole closed his eyes, causing tears to fall.

Layton gasped in shock. He knew Raymond and Descole were very close.

Descole painfully sighed. "I- I can't let them take you, too... Why risk both our lives just for mine...?"

Layton couldn't stand to watch his brother suffer. "Because... I think you're worth that risk."

Descole looked up at Layton with desperation in his eyes; desperation to be free from pain. He sadly rested his head on the shoulder which Layton had his hand on. "I- I do not deserve your kindness..." Descole closed his eyes. A single tear slid down his face onto Layton's hand. "I tried to kill you before. I've caused you so much hurt. Why do you care what happens to me?"

"Brother, love isn't conditional," Layton explained simply.

Descole was silent in confusion as he tried to control his labored breathing. He shook his head. "I- I'll never understand you... Ugh!" Descole contorted in pain.

"Descole!" Layton helplessly watched his brother suffer. "I- I couldn't forgive myself if you were to die here... please, let me—"

"No! I- I know you think me selfish..." Descole swallowed, struggling to speak, "b- b- but I'm only doing this for your own good... I- I don't want you t- to end up... in t- this state."

Layton sat in silence as he sadly looked at his brother. "If Targent is relentlessly trying to hunt me, then they will find me eventually, even if you do die here. Please..." Layton begged.

"Layton..." Descole uttered, his body becoming limp instead of stiff. He panted exhaustedly as he lay in pain. He whispered weakly, "W- Wh... why can't you let me... have my... my final wish...?"

Layton didn't answer right away. He swallowed, choking back tears. "Because, I don't want you to die..." He said sadly.

With the last of his strength, Descole put his hand on his brother's shoulder. "Please... don't mourn over me... the world will be better off without me. Farewell, my dear brother... I only wish our reunion... needn't be so short..." Descole's eyes began to close as his hand fell from Layton's shoulder.

"N- No! DESMOND!"


	5. Descole's Despair

**A special thank you to all of those reading this (because I'm too lazy to send y'all PMs *sorry*)**

 **ImmortalSpuffy202: Thanks for following my story and for your reviews! Reviews always make my day! And never ever apologize for a long review! I _love_ reading them. :)**

 **KH777: Loving the brotherly fluff, huh? Well, you're in luck! There's plenty more where that came from! ;) Thanks for following, favouriting, and the review!**

 **AzureGem,** **Missi5504** , **and ShadowKyoko: Thank you for following and/or favouriting!**

 **ElegantPhoenix15: Many thanks to you for favouriting this story and me as an author!**

 ** _~ I apologize if I forgot anyone~_**

 ** _To everyone else,_ I'm sorry these chapters are not an ideal length to read in one sitting. When I started writing this story, it was not divided into chapters. They should start to be shorter soon.**

"Ugh..." Descole felt half asleep, half awake. What was happening? Was he... dead? No, that couldn't be possible. He still could feel pain, only in his ribs and back, but not much. But how could that be? Last thing he remembered, he was in excruciating pain and Layton was there... begging to take him to the hospital...

Descole's eyes flashed open. The bright light stung his eyes, causing his head to hurt terribly, but he quickly took in his surroundings. No doubt, he was in a hospital. He wanted to jump up and find Layton to scold him, but he didn't have the energy or strength. What would acting like a child accomplish, anyway?

He looked over to his right to see Layton sitting in a chair fiddling with a puzzle of some sort. Before Descole could say anything, Layton looked over and saw that he was awake. Layton stood and smiled, happy to see him awake, and not writhing in pain. As Layton got closer, he noticed how unkempt Descole was. Not only was his hair dirty and in desperate need of being washed, but even facial hair beginning to be a bit noticeable.

"How do you feel? Are you still in much pain?" Layton questioned, his eyes clearly tired and filled with genuine compassion.

"No..." Descole croaked, hardly understandable. "Only a little bit."

"That's good to hear," Layton said.

Descole lay motionless, still exhausted and sore from the night before.

"Descole, I didn't mean to upset you by bringing you here..." Layton started.

Descole let out a small sigh. "I know... you had little choice..."

"I wouldn't have been able to live with the guilt of you dying... knowing that I could have done something to save you," Layton swallowed.

"I understand," Descole uttered. "But if my nurse is a Targent mole and poisons me... it's all your fault," Descole joked, but didn't even smile.

Layton chuckled, glad to see his brother was still his sarcastic self. "You don't think I would be that careless as to let something like that happen to you, do you?" He laughed.

"You're right... I do feel quite safe actually... perhaps I was overreacting a bit," Descole looked down at the IV in his arm. "Or perhaps it's all these drugs making me feel calm..."

Layton chuckled again. "Haha. Either way, I'm glad you feel calm. I wouldn't want to have to call for security because my brother went mad and was trying to destroy the hospital."

Rolling his eyes, Descole said, "I suppose that does sound like something I would do... How long was I...?"

"Not long. It's about noon now. Claire is over at the lab finishing up some research before she relaxes for the weekend. She should be coming later today," The professor said.

"Hah," Descole frowned. "I'm sure her weekend will be very 'relaxing', thanks to me..." He looked over the puzzle on the chair. "Solved it yet?"

"No..." Layton answered. "To be honest, I was trying to calm my nerves with it... but it didn't really help."

"I'll be okay..." Descole said.

"Well, yes, I'm glad you're receiving medical attention now... Doctor Wattford says you should make a full recovery. You shouldn't have many complications afterwards, besides some scarring... but I still am a little unsettled by all of this."

Sighing weakly, Descole closed his eyes. "I'm sorry I got you involved with Targent again..."

"Don't feel that way. I'm glad I came along when I did... or else it may have been too late."

"Layton..." Descole uttered, turning away.

"What?" Layton asked.

Not wanting to answer right away, Descole stayed silent.

"Descole, please tell me, what's wrong?"

"I wanted to die," Descole said seriously, his voice breaking. "Raymond was the only one that kept me sane since my wife and daughter died..."

Layton raised an eyebrow in confusion.

Descole scowled. "Well, he kept me sane enough not to commit suicide anyway... He successfully talked me out of suicidal thoughts... and he tried to talk me out of becoming Descole... He stood faithfully by me, although he did not approve of my plans... But now that he's gone, who's to stop me from ending my wretched life..." Descole trailed off.

"Descole, enough!" Layton said firmly. "You have many of reasons to live."

Descole silently thought for a couple seconds. "Really? Name one," Descole's voice cracked in hopelessness.

"For my sake," Layton said seriously.

Descole's breathing became uneasy. "Layton, leave."

Layton looked extremely sorry for Descole. "I can't just leave yo—"

"Please... I need time... Alone," Descole's eyes filled with tears once again.

Layton stood silently for several seconds, as if he were trying to think of a solution for Descole's puzzle. Layton then realized that pieces to a puzzle can be lost. Sometimes, they were pieces that could never be found again. Layton hoped Descole's brokenness could heal over time, and he knew he couldn't do anything presently to comfort Descole. However, he couldn't leave Descole while he had suicidal thoughts.

"I'm sorry, Descole... but once again, I cannot leave you. You'll have to deal with your emotions while I'm here. I cannot leave you alone."

"W- Why not?" Descole quivered, turning his face away from Layton, although Layton knew he was crying. "I'm not going to kill myself," He wept. "I- I could not possibly... not in my current state. I can hardly move..."

"In your confused state, however, it would be quite simple. I apologize, but I'm afraid I don't trust you in a room with a window. We are a quite a few floors up... I can't take that risk."

Descole was silent as he gripped the bed sheet, trying to control himself. He shot an angry, cold, tearful glare at Layton. "Quit treating me like a child, I do not need your supervision! You don't know how much I hate you right now..." He growled angrily, his voice full of pure hatred. "I wish I were dead... You're making my life nothing but miserable!" He shouted, his pupils constricting like they normally did when he was angry. His fiery eyes were filled with such a sharp, resentful glare that it pained Hershel.

Layton swallowed, not liking seeing Descole in this helpless position. "Please don't say things like that. I- I'm only trying to help you," Layton held back tears at the sight of his hopeless brother in pain.

Descole heard Layton's voice break. Descole's furious eyes dilated and changed to a confused look.

"Descole, I- I know I have no right to be... the emotional one here, but... this is hard on me, as well," Layton explained, trying to regain his composure. "I don't like to see anyone hurting... especially my brother."

"I- I'm sorry... I did not mean to take my anger out on you..." Descole apologized.

"It's fine, I understand. You're going through such hardship I wouldn't know of. This isn't easy for either of us... Knowing that Targent is out there, waiting to threaten my family is what is disturbing me. What are they after?"

Descole closed his eyes. "I- I honestly don't know... they acted as if the sole purpose of their actions was just to destroy the bloodline of Leon Bronev, in the most painful way possible."

"Hmm... Why didn't they kill you when they had the chance, then?" Layton asked, becoming more concerned about this situation.

"They were about to, but I escaped before that could happen... And yes, I want to die, but not at the hands of Targent," Descole explained. "The enemy cannot win..."

"Hmm..." Layton put a hand to his chin, realising that even in this terrible pain, Descole's hatred for Targent was still majorly prevalent. "Whatever their motives are, it doesn't sound pleasant..."

Descole looked down at his weak body then gave Layton a blank stare. "No, it's not pleasant in the slightest. I just want to be put out of my misery..." He rolled his head back on the pillow.

"If you're in pain, I can find a nurse to give you—"

"Medication will not cure me of this hurt. Nothing can bring back what's already been lost," Descole wept.

"Descole..." Layton sympathized.

"Stop pitying me!" Descole's sharp glare returned. "Just shut up and let me die in peace!" Descole shouted in anguish.

"Pull yourself together! You're not going to die! You ask me not to treat you like a child, and yet here you are acting like one!" Layton scolded.

"You've no right to speak to me like this! You haven't experienced even **half** the suffering I have in my entire life! You don't know what this agony is like!" Descole mourned.

"You're right. I haven't. I can't even begin to imagine what you must feel like right now. But that doesn't change the fact that you need to calm yourself. You haven't much energy, and you mustn't waste it," Layton advised.

"I don't care! I'll waste it if I wish to! I'd rather die anyway!" Descole only became more and more agitated.

"Descole, I'm serious," Layton said very sternly, taking a step yet even closer to his bedside.

"I'm just as serious as you are!" Descole growled.

Layton wouldn't answer him. He knew any further conversation would only anger Descole further. Layton sighed. "I'm done trying to reason with you..." He muttered under his breath, walking over to his seat.

"What was that?!" Descole questioned.

Layton only responded with silence, sitting down in the chair and returning to solving the puzzle.

"Layton, answer me!" Descole shouted.

Still fiddling with his puzzle, Layton ignored his insane brother.

"Fine! I don't want your pity anyway!" Descole proceeded to sit up, crying out in pain. He ripped the IV from his arm and started stumbling towards the window.

Layton was horrified. "Descole, stop!" Layton stood up quickly, hurrying over to Descole.

"Get away from me!" Descole turned around and swung a fist at his brother.

Layton stumbled back before his fist could make contact, but then cautiously approached him again. Descole leaned against the window sill, facing Layton.

"Descole, I don't want to cause you more pain. Please, just come lie back down," Layton tried to say calmly, but he was actually extremely frightened.

"No! Don't get any closer to me!" Descole warned, frantically reaching behind himself, trying to open the window.

Layton had no choice. As Descole began to open the window, Layton quickly restrained his brother, causing him to cry out in pain. He started collapsing towards the ground, but Layton helped him to stay upright. He pulled Descole's arm over his shoulder. Layton started leading him back to the bed, but Descole wouldn't move.

"Come, Descole," Layton still attempted to guide him.

"No! Let me— Ugh!" Descole fell to his knees, gasping for breath, hardly able to breathe because of the pain. He wrapped his arm around his brother's shoulders so he wouldn't fall, and Layton kept his arm around his shoulders to keep him from completely falling as well.

"It hurts... so much..." Descole muttered, grasping his side with his other hand.

"Hm?" Layton noticed Descole's hand travel up toward his chest and stop over his heart.

"R- Raymond... W- Why did they have to murder you...?" Descole breathed out, clearly the pain of losing Raymond currently hurting him worst of all.

The door burst open. "What is going on here?" Doctor Wattford, a middle aged man with blonde hair and medium stature, stormed in with two security men behind him.

"A suicide attempt, from the looks of it," A security officer observed the half open window. "Is that right?" He asked while walking up to close it.

"Well—" Layton started.

"It's my life! Let me end it if I please!" Descole shouted, still grasping at his heart.

"Desmond, please!" Layton tried to bring sense to him, shaking him slightly.

"Let us take it from here," The doctor started to bent down towards them to take Layton's place, but Descole refused. He swung at the doctor.

"Stay away from me!"

Wattford stumbled back and nodded to the two security guards. They both swiftly grabbed Descole's arms, causing him to cry out again.

"Please, be careful with him!" Layton begged as he was forced to let go of his brother.

They took Descole back to his bed although he still put up a fight, laid him down, and held him there.

"Restrain him," The doctor ordered.

Layton couldn't stand to watch as they held Descole down, strapping his arms and legs down so that he couldn't harm himself further, or harm others. Layton looked away, closing his eyes, but he could still hear his insane brother's cries of anguish. A pain went through Layton, sorrow overtaking him for his brother's sake. As soon as they were done restraining him and putting his IV back in, Descole's cries faded into pants of exhaustion.

"We will leave you to talk to him alone. Patients in delirium will only be frightened by our presence. Let us know if he doesn't calm himself, then we will sedate him if he needs it," Doctor Wattford nodded as he left with the security officers, clearly trusting in the professor's capabilities.

Layton walked close to Descole's bed. He looked down at him, eyes full of sadness.

Descole only returned him a sharp angry glare, his eyes hateful and sad at the same time. His chest heaved as he panted, a drop of perspiration rolling from off of his forehead. He grit his teeth as he breathed heavily. "Look at what you've done to me!" He growled in a whisper through his clenched teeth.

Layton eyes saddened further as he observed. Looking at Descole's fists, he saw they were tightly closed and convulsing, and his wrists were tied to the side rails of the bed. His ankles were strapped down at the bottom of the bed. He was completely incapacitated. He struggled to free himself, but it was no use.

"You've done this to yourself, Descole," Layton admitted sadly. "Please, stop fighting. I don't want you to hurt yourself further," Layton said, his voice very serious and concerned.

Descole's angry glare lingered a moment longer, but then he sighed and let the tension fall from his entire body. He panted in exhaustion, his body still clearly in a lot of pain.

"I'm sorry this happened to you, I truly am... but you must to find a way to cope," Layton counseled. "I'll help you in any way I can."

Descole waited before speaking. He thought of the right words to say. "There's nothing you can do..." His voice shook. "Everyone I loved has already passed on... Our parents are gone. Yes, Bronev is alive, but he is not my father anymore... Father is dead. Mum is dead... My dear Elaine is gone, and so is sweet Jeannie. Raymond..." He shut his eyes tightly, not able to speak any more. He swallowed, trying to clear his throat so he could speak. "Raymond... was like a father to me... Yes, he served me day and night like any butler would... but he was always there with wisdom, kindness, support, when I needed it; even when I didn't want it... He loved me unconditionally. He never had said it in all his years... but it was clear through his actions. No one in this world loved me as much as Raymond did... Through all my stubbornness and hatred, he stayed by my side..." Tears escaped Descole's closed eyes. He helplessly looked back up at Layton. "And now he's gone. You can't do anything about that."

Layton was silent in thought. It really seemed as if there was no hope for Descole.

"Listen. I know I can't do much about this, but you're not alone. My family and I will help you however we can," Layton put a comforting hand on his shoulder.

"N- No... don't get your parents involved..." Descole begged.

"Descole... There's something I need to tell you. I have... more family than just my parents and Claire. There is someone else that I can't keep from getting involved in all of this," Layton admitted.

Descole thought for a moment, but he couldn't figure it out. "Who...?"

Layton took a deep breath. "There's a young adolescent girl that I've been looking out for a couple months now. Claire and I are her legal guardians, but she's with my parents for the weekend. I'm not sure how I can explain this to her..."

Descole only closed his heavy eyes. He didn't know what to say about this. Not only did he get his brother involved, but his whole family too. "I- I'm sorry..."

"Don't be. You mustn't feel guilt. I want to help you, Desmond. I sincerely do," Layton said, holding his brother's shoulder a little tighter.

More tears streamed down Descole's face. "B- But... I- I cannot... bear the thought... of Targent putting you in this state..." He took a painful deep breath. "Taking all of your loved ones, and then leaving you half dead, just to slowly suffer to your end..."

Layton was silent in confusion, wondering how he was so certain this was going to happen. Apparently Descole read his mind.

"They threatened to, Layton..." Descole shook his head. "After they killed Raymond..."

* * *

"Are ya ready to put him out of his misery yet, boss?" A Targent agent asked, observing Descole lying on the ground, twisting in pain, weeping in agony.

"No... we have yet to take away the last of his family," The shadowy figure answered.

"Hah! I have... no family left... for you to take away!" Descole shouted out in between his sharp, labored breaths. His voice was barely understandable because of the agony in which he spoke.

"I think you're lying, Descole..." The mysterious man chuckled. "I know about your past. Not only about the Sycamore side of your family, Desmond, but also about the Bronev family... your true family."

"N- No... End t- this madness... Who are you?! WHAT DO YOU WANT FROM ME?!" Descole cried, shutting his eyes tightly in pain.

The individual only laughed menacingly again. "I'd much rather let you suffer in suspense than tell you. Well, I doubt you'll ever discover my identity anyway. It appears as if your life is about to expire. But first..." He took a dramatic pause, knowing Descole hated suspense. "Your brother... Layton."

Descole's eyes flashed open. "NO! LEAVE HIM OUT OF THIS!" Descole screamed as loudly as he could as he writhed. "What has he ever done to you?!"

"It's more of the question what have **you** done to Targent. You've been a thorn in our side many, many years... and now it's time for you to pay. The whole Bronev family shall pay. You will watch your brother suffer worse than you are suffering right now."

"Haven't I paid enough?! And t- that's not p- possible... to be in worse agony... than I," Descole lamented.

"It is. And you'll get to witness it with your very own eyes... once we find him..."

* * *

"I- I led him right to you... he's going to kill you because of me..." Descole wept.

"Desmond, enough of this," Layton said sympathetically. "We cannot dwell on what's already been done, or what is to come. We need to focus on now, and what we can do to prevent Targent from completing their goals."

Descole rolled his head back. "Like what? We cannot get the law involved. Targent's trickery is too cunning for them, and that would only mean more trouble for us."

"Do you know where their hideout is? Where did you come from?" Layton questioned.

"I wish I could remember. I lost consciousness several times during my escape. I can't even remember how I ended up in that alleyway," Descole explained weakly. "I suppose I subconsciously made my way to where I knew I would be safe..."

"So are we safe to assume that the hideout is somewhere in England?"

"I really... am not sure," Descole shook his head. "I cannot even remember if I had the Bostonius at some point, so perhaps I could have flown... It's all such a blur. I don't know what kept me alive during that time. I'm too exhausted to try remembering right now."

"Hmm..." Layton hummed thoughtfully. "I suppose we should focus on something else at present, then."

"What is there to 'focus on'?"

Layton thought a moment. He looked around the room. "Well... each other's company... and perhaps a puzzle," Layton smiled.

Descole tried his hardest to smile, but only slightly raised one corner of his mouth. It was going to take some time to learn how to be truly happy again, it seemed. His small smirk disappeared as he closed his eyes, groaning in pain.

Layton's smile disappeared as well. "Please, let me find a nurse for you. I'm sure they could do something to ease your pain."

Descole thought a moment, breathing heavily. "Fine..."

Layton nodded and left swiftly.

After the door had been closed, Descole then realized how dreadful the silence was. He tried to think about something besides how silent it was, but the silence was painfully overpowering. Although it was only about a minute before Layton returned, it felt like millennia to Descole. He sighed in relief as he heard the door open.

A nurse entered, Layton in tow. As she silently adjusted his IV, Descole observed Layton's facial expression as he stood on the opposite side of the bed. Descole could see his the pain in his eyes. Being so self centered, Descole hadn't noticed until now how troubled Layton looked. Desmond's vision was slightly distorted since he was not wearing his glasses, but he could still tell that Layton was sincerely distressed. He tried to think of what it would be like to be in Layton's position. Surely it couldn't be as miserable as his own state, but he could tell that Layton too was suffering from this already. The anxiety in his eyes was quite clear, but what from? From the state Descole was in? From the fear of what Targent might do? The fear of losing his love again? What was troubling him so deeply?

After the nurse was finished with her work, she left.

Not realising he was making a somber face, Layton noticed Descole's confused look. He understood immediately Descole's expression of concern, and tried to clear his face.

"I'm fine," Layton swallowed.

"You don't have to do that," Descole said flatly. "Layton, I know you're hurting too," Opening his fist that was restrained to the bed, Descole uncurled his fingers towards Hershel. Sadly, Layton took his cold, weak hand in his.

Descole grasped his hand tightly and felt a pang of sadness overwhelm himself once again as he felt his brother's warmth. "W- What are we going to do?"

Layton was silent for awhile. He wanted to give Descole words of hope, but he couldn't give him false assurance. Was there really any hope?

"I... I honestly... don't know, Brother," Layton hung his head sadly.


	6. Flora Meets Her Uncle

**Some quick replies to my faithful reviewers, and then onto the story!**

 **ImmortalSpuffy202: I'm glad you're liking the story so far! I have played all the Layton games, I'm a diehard fan. My very first fanfiction was written (so long ago it was on actual paper) and it is about Randall! It's about his life in Craggy Dale. I will definitely work on editing it and uploading it for you. It's still a work in progress, but I have the whole story in my head!**

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"What's wrong, Professor? Why did you have Claire bring me to the hospital? It's Monday, I should just be going to school... What's going on?" Flora asked, deeply concerned as they walked down the hall.

Layton sighed. "Flora... I will show you why. I really did not want you to find out this way..."

"W- What do you mean? Professor... I'm scared," Flora's eyes began to fill with tears as she wrapped her arms around the professor's arm.

"Everything is all right, Dear..." He reassured her as they stopped in front of a door. "I'll explain everything in a moment."

Layton pushed the door open and held it for Flora. As Flora walked in slowly, she observed the man in the bed, who was no longer restrained, it now being two days later. Walking closer, Flora realized who it was. She had seen pictures that Luke had shown her from past adventures.

"Flora, this is Desmond Sycamore," The professor explained. "I'm sure Luke has told you about the time we travelled the world with this man... Unfortunately, he's been injured severely. He has no place to go. When I found him Friday night, I offered that he stay with us until he's well enough."

Flora wasn't quite sure how to respond. She seemed as if she had many questions but none came to her mind at the moment.

Descole gave Layton a look as to say, "You haven't told her we're brothers yet?"

There was a long, abnormal silence that Descole couldn't handle. He couldn't believe Layton would keep something like this from Flora. If Layton wasn't going to, he was. He knew how frustrating it was to not be trusted as a child.

"Layton... you really haven't told her about... us, have you?" Desmond said, his voice calmer and less harsh than it had been.

"Haven't told me what? Professor, what's going on?" Flora questioned.

The professor sighed. "Desmond is right. I need to tell you..."

Flora waited in suspense nervously as Layton mustered up the courage to say it.

"Flora... He... He's not only Desmond Sycamore... but he's also... Descole, that Luke told you about from our adventures..."

There was another silence. Descole closed his eyes in annoyance. Did Layton not want to admit that he, Descole, the vile criminal, was his own brother? It hurt Descole, although the knew he deserved it.

"Well, Luke left that detail out of the story... but why?" Flora asked.

"That's because... there's a third identity, his true identity... that he's hidden from, not only the world, but from me too, up until this past year..." Layton trailed off, unable to finish.

"Who is he, Professor?" Flora waited, her heart pounding.

"I- I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner, dear... He's..." Layton struggled. "My- My brother."

Flora's somber face became shocked. Her breathing became uneasy.

"Flora, I didn't mean to hide it from you so long, I just—"

"I- I can't believe this..." Flora sniffed. "You don't trust me with anything!" She stomped. "I don't know why you even want to be my guardian if you won't trust me with these sort of—"

"Flora!" The professor's face saddened. "I'm sorry... a time just never presented itself. It just didn't seem necessary. But you know now, so can we drop this whole trust issue? You know I trust you, dear."

"Flora," Descole interrupted. "Think of this as if you were in the professor's position. Think about how hard this is for him and I. We've been apart since we were children. The professor didn't even remember that I was his brother until about a year ago. It's not easy for either of us to tell others about our past... even those that we're close to."

Flora was quiet while thinking about his words. "Yeah... I guess I have been pretty selfish. Sorry, Professor. I'll do whatever you need me to do to help Mr. Sycamore when we get home. I just have so many questions..."

"I'm sure you do, Flora," Layton sighed.

"And, Flora, please. You can just call me Desmond," Desmond said, a sort of caring look in his eyes. "I see the professor is much like a father to you. We're family," He attempted a small smile which was semi-convincing.

The professor chuckled slightly, deeply happy to see his brother finally smiling— at least, trying to smile. "Uncle Desmond has a nice ring to it."

Desmond smirked and rolled his eyes. "Well—"

Flora giggled. "Yeah. I like it. Uncle Desmond," She repeated.

The brothers both smiled and laughed a little, Flora's cheerful mood being contagious.

"Professor Sycamore, I want you to know that Claire, Flora, and I will do whatever we can for you," Layton reminded.

Sycamore gratefully looked up at his brother with a smile. "I know you will, Layton."

Flora looked confused. "Okay, so my first question is, if you're brothers, then why don't you call each other by your first names?"

Layton's facial expression changed into a thinking one, as well as Desmond's.

"I suppose that is a good question, Flora..." The professor observed. "You can ask us your questions later. I think it's about time you head to school, Dear. Claire is waiting for you. We can come visit Sycam— I mean, Desmond— tonight. Claire will pick you up after school."

Flora huffed and turned her smile into a frown. "Why do you get out of school, but I don't! I wanna stay here with you two."

The professor raised his eyebrows and gave her a serious look. "Flora. Please."

Flora sighed. "I'm sorry... I know you're tired... and I shouldn't have made a scene... I'll go."

"That's a girl," Layton smiled as Flora left to leave with Claire.

"She's a sweet girl..." Descole voice returned to it's deep tone. Layton knew he had just been putting on an act for Flora. He was still Descole, hateful towards Targent. Descole continued. "She even caused me to laugh. You don't need to do all of this for me..."

"What do you mean?" Layton raised an eyebrow.

Descole sighed. "You should be with her..."

"She will be fine. Although Targent may be clever, I don't think they will be able to infiltrate the school."

"What about Claire?"

"You really do need to stop worrying. They will be fine."

"But you're risking so much for me... I don't understand," Descole said sadly.

"You're at more of a risk than Flora or Claire at the moment. Did you not say Targent could come looking for you?"

"Yes... but still..."

"I don't want to discuss this further. You must stop feeling as if you're a burden to me. To be quite honest, I'm enjoying your company."

Descole chuckled. "You're enjoying my constant complaining and breakdowns? You are a strange one, Hershel Layton."

Layton chuckled back. "Now that's what I enjoy! Your sarcasm and wit. I guess I need to lighten up sometimes, being serious in lectures and teaching all the time. Ever since Luke moved away... I haven't been able to find much to laugh about. He always was able to... lighten the mood. Now it seems as if I get caught up in my research at the office, with nothing to pull me out of it. To put it simply, I've been lonely."

Descole raised an eyebrow. "What about Claire and Flora?"

"I thought Claire would help cure me of my loneliness, Flora too, but I'm sure you understand their company isn't exactly the sort—"

"Yes, I understand... it must've been hard for you when Luke moved away," Descole condoled, actually relieved he wasn't the one being pitied this time.

"Yes..." Layton said. There was quite a silence, that Layton took to his advantage to change the subject. "Do you think you're ready to try to eat something? Doctor Wattford said you should try to start eating within the next day."

Descole sighed slowly as to not hurt his ribs. "I really don't want to... but I suppose I should try if I'm ever going to stop being nurtured through this thing," Descole slightly raised his arm that the IV was inserted into.

Layton chuckled slightly. "Indeed. I'll go tell them you're ready to eat."

Layton left shortly and came back. A few minutes later, a nurse brought his food in, helped prop him up just a bit, then left.

"I'll be surprised if this is even fit for human consumption..." Descole complained, hesitatingly taking his first small bite of who knew what. After Descole had swallowed, Layton smiled with a small sigh of relief, happy to see that his brother was on the upward way of recovery. Layton sat down and continued working on the puzzle he had taken a break from the past few days. He actually began to make progress on solving the puzzle, now that his stress had lightened. After about five minutes, Descole stopped eating. When Layton heard Descole's utensil clank on his tray, he looked up quickly.

"Is... something wrong?" Layton asked.

"I don't know..." Descole admitted. "My stomach..." Descole put his arm over his abdomen.

"What is it?" Layton stood quickly, becoming worried as he walked over to him.

"I'm... very lightheaded..." Descole put his other hand over his forehead as his breathing quickened.

"Perhaps you should lie back down..." Layton took the tray of food away from Descole and set it on the stand next to the bed.

"Now I feel... nauseated," Descole moaned.

Layton quickly grabbed the first thing he could find, which happened to be a rubbish bin. Layton had made it back over to Descole just in time. After he had finished retching, Layton realized something was very wrong. There was blood. As Descole lay weakly trying to catch his breath, Layton became troubled once again, now knowing that Descole wasn't recovering. He was becoming worse.

"I'll get the doctor," Layton said quickly, turning to leave.

"No!" Descole begged, curling in towards his stomach. "I'm f- fine now..."

"Descole, I know you don't want to prolong your stay, but—"

"Hershel..." Descole whimpered, starting to become limp as he curled up in pain.

"Hm...?" Layton started becoming more nervous than ever, never having heard Descole called him by his first name alone.

"Theo... come here... please..." Descole cried desperately.

As Descole muttered his given name, Layton remembered. He remembered the nickname his brother had given him many, many years ago.

"You need help, Descole," Layton tried to say calmly while still heading away.

"NO!" Descole screamed, trying to follow after him, about falling from the bed. He looked at Layton with pained, frightened eyes.

Layton sighed, going back to his bedside to stop him from getting up. He gently assisted him back into a lying position. "Everything is okay, Desmond. You just need to take a deep breath."

"Theo... don't l- leave me... they'll take you away..." Descole's voice became more emotional as he took Layton's hand and gasped for breath.

"Descole, snap out of this. I need to get you help immediately," Layton spoke quicker and quicker each time he talked, becoming impatient with him. He tried to pull his hand away from his grasp.

Descole only held onto him tighter, unable to speak because of pain. "N- N-"

"Don't talk. I'm right here, everything is okay..." Layton guided his hand to the side of the bed. "Lie still. Targent is not here. We're both safe," Layton discreetly put the restraint that was still on the bed around his wrist and tightened it.

Descole seemed to relax at his words, not noticing what he was doing. Layton took his other hand and leaned over the bed and secured his other wrist to the bed.

"I'll be right back, Brother," Layton slowly left his side then quickly headed for the door.

"NOOOO! THEO, DON'T DO THIS!" Descole struggled, but Layton kept going. He was only gone a few seconds before he came back in to comfort his insane brother who was still screaming.

"Desmond, I'm here. Please, calm down. You're going to be all right," Layton smoothed his sweaty, dirty hair away from his face, trying to calm his labored breaths.

Descole calmed slightly at his touch, but now the tears were finally falling from his pained eyes. "T- Theodore... don't ever s- scare me like that again. Free me... they've tied me down."

A pain shot through Layton hearing Descole's voice so confused. His brother was going delusional.

Wattford entered swiftly with a nurse following him as Layton still spoke to Descole.

"Listen to me. You're safe now. Targent hurt you, but these people are going to help you get better," Hershel condoled. He then turned to Wattford and let out a short, nervous sigh. "He ate a little, but then he proceeded to vomit. I'm scared to say it... but there appears to be blood in it."

The doctor inspected the matter in the rubbish bin. "I believe you're right. Internal bleeding, most likely," He quickly walked to the other side of the bed to begin preparing it to move it to another room. "His stomach must have been slightly perforated earlier, but the food was enough to complete the tear. If he's not in shock yet, he will be shortly if we do not act quickly," The doctor glanced at his medical assistant. "Let's get him to emergency surgery immediately."

"Will he be all right?" Layton asked hurriedly as they began pushing the bed.

"I don't kn—"

"DON'T LET THEM TAKE ME!" Descole shouted, his struggling becoming out of control. He managed to grab Layton's sleeve as he was walking closely to the side of the bed. They stopped pushing the bed to try to restrain him further so that he wouldn't fall from the bed.

"Desmond! I'm right here, listen to my voice. Let them take care of you; they're going to help you," Layton tried to calm his struggling, but he wouldn't stop. Descole began heaving again. As his grip loosed on Layton's sleeve, he turned his head to the side and vomited again.

"He's losing blood rapidly! We need to transport him quickly!" The doctor began pushing the bed again, Layton following them out of the room.

Descole lay weakly at this point, unable to fight any longer. After they had gotten through the door, his eyes were becoming heavy very slowly, and eventually Descole's eyes tiredly fell shut.

"Stay here," Wattford ordered Layton. He stopped in his tracks and helplessly watched. Tears filled his eyes as they continued taking his brother away, not knowing if he would ever see him again.


	7. The News

**I'm starting to catch up to where I'm at in writing... So I apologise for the long waits that will be coming up soon. I skipped my nap today to edit this for you, so please leave me a review when you're finished... Hey, can't hurt to ask! #AskAndYeShallReceive**

 **ImmortalSpuffy202: I am so thankful for your faithful reviews every chapter! You're the best! (P.S. I will try to have the first chapter of my Randall story up soon.)**

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"Hershel, please come home and eat something. It's getting terribly late. After this surgery, he probably won't be awake for a while in his condition," Claire tried to console her husband, who wouldn't even look up at her since she had come to the hospital. He only sat with his head in his hands, waiting in the lobby to hear word of how the surgery had went. Claire put a hand on his shoulder. "Hershel, I'm worried sick about you. So is Flora. She's waiting for you to come home."

Hershel couldn't answer. His breathing only quickened at her touch, and he still refused to look up at her.

Claire finally seated herself next to him, her hand still on his shoulder. "Please, talk to me," She gently put her other hand under his chin to guide his face to look at her. He finally looked at her, his eyes full of sadness and worry.

"Claire..." Layton closed his eyes as she cupped her hand around his cheek. "I can't leave... I... I don't know how much time I left with him. I don't know if he will survive. I want to be here if he does happen to wake."

"I understand, dearest... but you haven't eaten or slept much in several days. You're going to make yourself sick."

"I can't leave him, though..." Hershel argued.

Claire sighed. "All right... I figured I wouldn't be able to persuade you..." She pulled out a dish. She took the lid off to show the container full of kedgeree she had cooked him. "Won't you try eating something?"

Hershel smiled a tiny bit through his worry, knowing how much Claire loved him but, his smile did not last long. He remembered his troubles, but was still thankful for his wife.

"I'll try... it smells delicious. Thank you, Claire," Hershel took the dish and fork offered to him. He took his first bite of the warm rice and let the tension from his shoulders fall. He slowly took a few more bites of the delicious food until the doctor came out. He immediately set the dish aside and stood up to hear the news.

"You might want to stay sitting..." Doctor Wattford said slowly, sounding very somber.

"Why? What happened?" Layton was too frightened to sit back down.

"Well... Professor Sycamore's condition is extremely unstable. The surgery went well, but only time will tell if it was successful. However..." Wattford looked away as he uncomfortably prepared himself to finish. "I do not believe he has enough strength left to awake. Because of the state he was in before the surgery, it's very unlikely that he will recover. It will be a miracle if he wakes. I'm sorry. We've done all we could. He's just too weak..."

Layton couldn't breathe. Unable to move at all, he stood completely still, the world crumbling around him.

"Hershel..." Claire put her hands on his shoulders from behind him. "Sit down, Dearest."

Hershel slowly seated himself, now breathing heavily, not knowing what to do with himself.

"My condolences. We will keep you updated, should anything change," The doctor left swiftly.

Layton hung his head once again, holding his head in his hands.

Claire wrapped her arms around him. "I'm so sorry, Hershel... I wish I could do something."

Layton said nothing. He just sat in his wife's embrace, refusing to let any emotions out.

"Hershel... You know it's all right to be sad..." Claire whispered, caressing his back with her fingertips. "Even a true gentleman needs to grieve sometimes. I know you. You feel like you need to stay strong... but you don't have to, Hershel. I'm here for you."

Slowly, he let his guard down. He sighed and let the tension fall from his shoulders as he accepted his wife's comfort. Resting in her embrace, he let the tears fall that he was holding back. "I barely knew him, C- Claire... but I do know that he had a hard life. Saying he had a hard life doesn't even begin to describe what he's been through. When I found him the other night, h- he told me that he had lost absolutely everything. I wanted to make things better for him, give him a second chance at life..."

"Don't give up all hope yet, Sweetheart... Come home for tonight. Tomorrow morning perhaps we can see if the doctor will let you talk to him. Perhaps your voice will be enough to stir him," Claire advised, but Hershel didn't answer. Claire shifted so that she could see his face. She wiped a tear away from his cheek. He opened his eyes and looked up at his loving wife. "Does that sound like a plan, Hershel?"

Layton nodded. "Yes... thank you, Claire."

It was a long, quiet ride home as Layton tried to come to terms with what was happening. He didn't quite believe it all yet, and the sadness wasn't fully taking over his soul. He knew Descole's chances of living were small, but he refused to mourn until he had done all he could. Right when they arrived at home, they headed to bed. Flora had already fallen asleep waiting up for them.

"Isn't there anything I can do to help you sleep better?" Claire asked, taking the tea cup away from tired Hershel who was laying in bed, unable to sleep.

"Claire, how many times do I need to tell you to stop worrying about me and—"

"I won't rest until I know you're going to sleep well," Claire rested her hand on top of his folded hands.

"You can't make me," Hershel chuckled at his hardworking wife.

"I want to try my very best though," Claire smiled, taking the teacup out to the kitchen.

Hershel laughed again after she was gone, looking forward to tomorrow, full of hope. He sighed, truly hoping with all his might that he could get Descole to awake.

When Claire came back into the room, she was still smiling. Why was she so happy lately, Hershel wondered. Perhaps she had just become more joyful for his sake, to brighten the mood during this hard time. She clicked off the bedside lamp, and curled up next to her beloved. "I bet I know something that will help you sleep a little better," Claire remarked.

"What would that be?" Hershel whispered, his eyes closed. He was contented at hearing his wife's voice.

He felt her sit up and lean close to his face. Every muscle in his tense body relaxed as her smooth lips brushed against his. He kissed her back, forgetting all else. As she kissed him, Claire ran her hand through his hair. After awhile, she pulled away slowly for a second.

"I love you so much, Claire," Hershel whispered.

She laughed softly. "I love you too, and I never get tired of telling you so," She finished with another short, unhurried kiss.

"Neither do I," Hershel chuckled happily. "Just hearing your beautiful voice is enough to put me at ease."

"I don't even need to hear your voice to feel safe," Claire snuggled down next to him and rested her head against his shoulder. "Just being in your arms is enough."

"Well, in that case..." Hershel rolled onto his side so that he could wrap his arm around Claire.

Claire let out a contented breath. "Goodnight, Sweetheart."

* * *

The next morning, Flora was happy to see the professor, but not to hear the news he had to tell. He caught her up on what was going on as they ate breakfast.

"Is he gonna be okay, professor?" Flora asked, her eyes brimming with concern. "Please don't make me go to school. I wanna help you try to wake him."

Layton thoughtfully set his teacup back on its saucer as he picked up his fork to finish his eggs. "Of course, Flora. You don't have to go to school. We don't know how much longer my brother has, and I know you want to be with us with whatever time he does have left... if he's not going to make it..." Layton said somberly. "We will head over as soon as we're ready," He ate the last bite of the eggs on his plate.

Claire stood up and took her plate and Hershel's. "Finish your tea, Love. You need the energy. And Flora, please eat a little more," Claire observed her half eaten piece of toast.

"I'm not hungry anymore," Flora moaned, pushing her plate away.

Claire sighed, taking Flora's plate and adding it to her stack. After scraping off Flora's leftovers into the trash, she walked over to the sink and set the dishes in it She started running the water. "Hershel is rubbing off on you... You both need to eat more than you do. Why do you both insist upon worrying me to no end?" Claire smirked back at her husband and her protege.

"I'm sorry," Layton and Flora apologised simultaneously, giving Claire an ashamed look.

Claire laughed at their synchronism and identical faces. Turning off the water, she dried her hands on a towel. "Oh well. Clean up can wait until later. Let's head on over."


	8. The Last Hope

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* * *

Once they had reached the hospital, they were granted permission to enter Desmond's room. Doctor Wattford warned them not to get their hopes up, but they were still allowed to try. Flora had become frightened and didn't want to see the state that her "uncle" was in. She decided she was going to wait outside of the room for Claire and Layton.

Layton opened the door and led the way for his wife. His heart had been pounding nervously ever since they had entered the hospital; but now that they were in the room and he had laid eyes on his pale, unconscious brother, Layton's heart nearly stopped.

Descole was still and motionless, all except for the slight, unnoticeable motion of his chest rising up and down with each shallow, artificial breath that was being pumped into him through a mask. Aside from the IV, there were many other devices monitoring his vitals. The rate of his heartbeat could be heard through a machine, but it was very slow. Layton swallowed hard as he stepped closer, gathering his courage to accomplish his mission, and Claire followed.

He shakily seated himself in front of his lifeless brother. Claire placed her hands on Hershel's quivering shoulders. Hershel tried to hold back his tears, but he was no longer able. Hot tears flowed freely from his eyes as he rested his elbows on the bed in front of him and put his head in his hands.

"Hershel... Talk to him," Claire advised, rubbing his shoulders, trying to comfort him.

Layton waited a moment before he responded, knowing his voice wasn't going to come out very gentlemanly. He took a deep breath, and turned to his wife. "C- Claire..." He hated being the weak one in front of his love. He was supposed to be the gentleman, the strong one.

Claire wiped the tears away from his cheek as concern and worry filled her eyes.

"Please... l- let me talk to him... alone," Hershel implored.

"Are you sure you'll be all right, Hershel dear?" Claire asked, her own heart breaking at hearing her husband so shattered. She had never heard him cry as he did now.

"Y- Yes..." Hershel sat up straighter to prove that he was able to be left alone.

"Are you certain there's not something I need to know? I don't want to throw accusations around, but I really have felt like you're hiding something from me, Hershel."

Layton felt his stomach twist and turn in many painful knots as he thought of Targent. He really didn't want to have this conversation; not now, not ever. She need not know about the danger that might not even affect her. After all, she wasn't part of the bloodline of Leon Bronev.

"Claire... I don't know why you would feel that way," Hershel stalled, not wanted her to needlessly worry about his safety.

"It's just you've been so distant. You've hardly told me anything about him," Claire gestured to Desmond.

Hershel looked back at Descole. "I've told you all I know," Layton lied, feeling like less of a gentleman than he had in his entire life.

"I want to believe you, I really do... I just have a feeling something's not right," Claire wrapped her arms around each other nervously.

Layton looked back at her. "How many times have I lied to you?" He shuddered internally as he spoke the words confidently. He was becoming as good of a liar as his brother.

"It's not a matter of that, it's just my instinct... I can't shake this feeling."

"I just would feel more comfortable talking to him alone, is all. But if you want to stay, Dear, I don't mind," Layton said lovingly.

"I understand..." Was all Claire had to say, looking at her husband a moment longer with a blank expression before she turned and left him. Hershel let out a long sigh as the door clicked shut, ashamed for having had lied to a lady. But more importantly, he had lied to the most wonderful woman in the universe. He knew he wouldn't be able to hide this from her forever. He erased the thoughts of guilt knowing that he had lied for her own good.

Turning back to Descole, he gathered his thoughts as he tried to speak to him.

"Descole... or should I call you Desmond?" Layton started. "Hershel..." His voice cracked as he thought about how this man laying here gave up everything for him. When Descole gave Layton his name Hershel, he gave up his only chance at living a normal life. A pain shot through Layton and more tears streamed down his face as he thought about how all the hurting and suffering his brother went through was in his stead, and there was nothing he could ever do to repay him. "Whatever identity you may go by for a while, an unchanging name that I can always call you is brother. Throughout our adventure travelling the world, I had no idea who you really were. But now that I do know, that adventure means so much more to me. I miss those days, and I missed you. Just sitting on the Bostonius drinking Earl Grey, and going out and solving puzzles in remote parts of the world." Layton stopped his reminiscing about happy times. "I never had a chance to thank you for what you did for me when we were children. I owe all my success in life to you... I also never had an opportunity to thank you for saving Luke's life in the Azran Sanctuary, either. You've done so much for me, and I could never repay you... I only wish you would awake so that I could show you my gratitude by letting me and my family take care of you until you were well enough to start anew. Although I know you don't want to live… I believe you deserve a second chance at life," Layton's voice became a whisper. "I don't want to lose you. Please, wake up, Brother," He hung his head.

Throughout the morning, Layton spent his time talking, mainly repeating himself, trying relentlessly to stir his brother from the coma. Claire and Flora were becoming very worried for the professor sake. Eventually, once it neared the afternoon, Claire entered the room to find her husband clasping his brother's cold, still hand. Hershel turned to his wife.

"His heartbeat is becoming weaker every moment..." Layton's wavering voice clearly showed how emotionally drained he was.

"Hershel..." Claire sighed, eyes full of sympathy as she approached him.

Hershel looked back at Descole, still holding his hand. Claire placed her hands on Layton's shoulders and looked down at his seemingly lifeless brother.

"I'm so sorry, Dearest. I don't know what to say," Claire said, clearly distressed for Hershel's sake.

"I'm not giving up yet," Hershel spoke determinedly. "As long as he's still alive, I'm going to try to wake him."

"Hershel, don't drive yourself mad... you've been at this for hours on end," Claire tried to say as gently as possible. "You don't know how long he will be in this state."

"I know, but..." Hershel tried to think of ways to persuade his wife. "Just let me try a bit longer. I still have the rest of the day."

"But how much longer are you going to cancel your plans? Find substitute teachers for your classes? I know you want to try to wake him, but if it's not working now, what makes you think it will work later? I'm sorry if I'm sounding too harsh, but you need to come to reality."

"Sweetheart, I'm aware his chances of waking are slim, but he's still alive. His heart is beating, and I can't ignore that chance, even if it is very very small. Just let me have today. I'll try my hardest to wake him, and then I'll figure out things later if need be.

Claire sighed. "All right. Flora and I are going to get something to eat. What would you like me to bring you?"

"I'm not hungry... but I know you're going to bring me something regardless. Whatever you bring me is fine."

Claire gave her husband's shoulders one last squeeze, and leaned down to place a delicate kiss on his cheek before she left.

As soon as Claire had left, Layton tried to think of something new to say to his brother. Still holding his hand, he moved his hand down to his wrist to feel Descole's pulse. Weaker each time he checked, it seemed.

"Brother... if you won't awake for my sake... please, wake up for your family's sake. Elaine, Jeannie and Raymond. Don't wake up for revenge; but for justice. I know it's a lot for me to ask of you... but you're the only one that has information about Targent's whereabouts. We can use whatever you can remember to track down where they are, and put an end to their evil. You could give others hope. You could save other families from their malevolence," Layton finished, knowing this was his last and only hope of waking Descole.

Claire was right. If he wasn't responding to his voice now, he surely wouldn't later on when his pulse was even weaker, and when his life was yet closer to fading away. Layton hardly believed that he was even alive now, since his life signs were barely there. The only thing telling Layton there was a chance, albeit minuscule, was the slow beeps from the machine monitoring Descole's heartbeat. He wasn't able to bear the sounds of the devices in the room telling him that his brother's life was ending soon. He had to keeping talking.

"Please..." Layton's voice began to quiver. "Just give me a sign if you can hear me."

Layton held his breath waiting and hoping deeply that his brother would twitch or even better, take a breath of his own. When nothing happened, he came to the fact that his brother wasn't going to awake. Hershel's breathing became heavy and uneasy as the aching in his chest grew to the point where it was hard for him to breathe. The grief that overtook him in that moment was crippling. Silently, he closed his eyes tightly, causing tears to slide down his face. He swallowed painfully, trying to clear the lump in his throat. Opening his eyes, he looked at Descole through blurry tears.

"My last reason... my most important reason that you need to awaken..." Layton took a deep breath to make his voice a bit stronger. "is for my family. I can't protect Flora and Claire from Targent... They're all I have, and I love them more than anything, but I know I won't be able to save them if Targent so threatens us. I don't know their trickery well enough. I know this is a selfish thing for me to ask of you, but I... I can't live without Claire. I've just reunited with her. Flora is such a sweet girl, and she brings so much joy into my life. I beg of you, wake up, Desmond!" Layton held his hand tighter as his voice became a frail whisper. "I need you!"

Layton, unable to control his emotions any longer, collapsed his head into his arms on the bed in front of his brother and wept. Time passed, and Layton wept knowing that all hope was truly lost. The only thing he could think about was that there was so much he had wanted to tell him, and so much they could have reminisced about. Perhaps they could have even gone on another adventure once Targent was defeated. Hershel couldn't deny it: he cared about his brother and he was going to miss him.

Suddenly, Layton felt a quick, gentle twitch around his hand. His breath hitched as he thought of what he just felt, and if it really happened. He pulled his head out of his arms and wiped away his tears with his free arm, looking down at Descole to see if he would awake. The machine monitoring his heart started sounding a bit faster at a normal rate. Descole then inhaled sharply.

Layton stood, relief starting to sink in. After Descole had taken a few more breaths, Layton slowly removed the breathing mask that he no longer needed. Hope filled Layton's eyes. He put a hand on his shoulder.

"Desmond...?"

Descole's eyelids began to flicker slightly. After what seemed like forever, his eyes began opening, only a minuscule sliver of brown visible. Layton repeated his name quietly and held his shoulder a bit tighter, causing his eyes to open further. He looked into Layton's eyes tiredly.

A smile washed over Layton's face, and all his anxiety disappeared. He was so relieved he didn't have any words. He wanted to embrace his brother in this moment of joy, but he refrained, knowing that he might hurt him.

"Why are you smiling like an imbecile, Layton?" Descole muttered weakly.

A happy laugh escaped Layton. "I've never been so happy to be called an imbecile. You don't know how relieved I am to see you awake."

Descole glanced around the room, only moving his dreary eyes. "What... happened?"

"Internal bleeding was found in your stomach. Right before you were taken to emergency surgery, you lost consciousness. The doctor did not expect you to awake... You're lucky to be alive," Layton explained.

"Lucky, you say?" Descole muttered. "I'm not certain how I feel about that statement... but I suppose you are right. Who else would be able to help you track down Targent..." He said in a less revengeful tone than normal, but perhaps it was only because he did not have enough energy to put the hate into his voice.

"You heard what I said… didn't you?"

"Yes… I heard enough to find my strength anyway," Descole admitted, his face sober. "Layton... I... I... need to tell you something..." His weak voice was hardly understandable as he closed his eyes.

Layton sat back down, moving his chair closer to his side. He put a reassuring hand on his forearm to let him know he was listening.

"I didn't want to awake... but I had to. Mother... I promised her I would always watch out for you..."

Layton sat silently, not knowing how to respond.

"Can you remember her? Her calming voice... her gentle touch? When Targent took her and Father away... I only cared about two things: getting revenge on Targent and your safety. Only now, I've realized which of the two is more important. I'll do whatever I can to help put an end to Targent."

"I'm glad," Layton's smile grew. "Your road to recovery will be a difficult journey, no doubt, but I'll be forever in your debt once again if you can help me in putting an end to Targent's goals."

"I'll try… After all, you did save my life by bringing me here... Even if I'm still trying to find purpose. You've given me hope, Layton," Descole closed his eyes.

"'Layton'? Didn't Flora say brothers should call each other by their first name?"

Descole smirked. "All right, Hershel. And since I'm living for justice now, and not for revenge… You may call me Desmond."


	9. Coming Home

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* * *

The brothers talked for a bit longer that day until Desmond became exhausted and needed to rest. The days went on, and Desmond was able to eat without complications. Now that he was recovering, Hershel returned to his teaching at Gressenheller. Things went back to normal around at the Layton household, and they made daily evening trips to see Desmond. The only thing keeping Desmond going was the hope of helping Hershel's family (which he now considered his own family), and the hope of getting out of the wretched hospital.

Desmond found Doctor Wattford to be an agreeable man, and didn't dislike the hospital as much as he once did. However, recovery was a rough process. Once he was back on his feet, he despised therapy. He pushed through each session, longing for the day when he was granted permission to go home. When the day finally came, he was relieved and overjoyed. Although he still was required to take precautions and perform certain exercises, he couldn't wait to get out of the hospital after having been there about four weeks. He was still very sore and in quite a bit of pain, but everything left was able to heal on own without medical supervision. Christmas was just around the corner, and he had worked his hardest in therapy to get to the point that he could be at home with the Laytons for the holiday.

"Flora is looking forward to having you live with us," Layton confessed, driving Desmond home now that he was released from the hospital. "It's all she's been talking about the past few days. She thinks very highly of you."

"Hah, well I doubt I can live up to her expectations. I don't know what I've done to be deserving of her affection," Desmond mused, then became solemn. "But... if I'm needed to protect her from Targent, I'll probably lose that trust... I don't know how I can help you. I failed my own family, what makes you think I can save yours?"

"Desmond... I'm not asking you to rescue them singlehandedly. I'm only asking that you help me in tracking down Targent."

"But I cannot remember anything... You don't know how many times I lay in the hospital, unable to sleep, attempting to remember glimpses about my abduction. The only thing I remember is what I've told you. Everything else... must've been too painful. My mind blocked everything out," Desmond closed his eyes.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to upset you..." Layton apologised. "I cannot keep hiding Targent from Claire forever. I've felt terrible ever since I lied to her when she asked me what was going on. I just don't want her to worry... Or Flora."

Desmond turned his head to his brother. "Hershel. You need to tell them both."

"I know..." Hershel sighed.

"If I wouldn't have kept Targent a secret from Elaine..." Desmond swallowed, looking out the side window into the busy streets of London. "Maybe she would have been prepared. Perhaps she and Jeannie would still be with me. We could have talked through it as a family and had a plan..." Desmond looked back at Layton. "Please don't make the same mistake as me, Brother."

Layton took a deep breath and let it out as he gripped the wheel tighter. "... All right. I'll tell them when we get home. After lunch."

"What if after lunch is too late?" Desmond tried to reason as they pulled into the parking spot.

There was a silence as Layton stopped the car and put it in park. "Fine. I'll tell them first thing when we're all together."

Hershel unlocked the door, and swung the it open for Desmond to enter.

"Welcome home," Layton smiled at his brother.

As Desmond entered the Layton's home, he sighed of relief. The short trip from the hospital had exhausted him thoroughly, but he was finally here. Home. The word sounded so foreign to him, having been constantly travelling the past few years. The Bostonius had provided shelter for him, but it wasn't much of a place to call home. Here, he would have his own room, a place to live, and a family. He was a bit hesitant at the thought of living with so many people again, but he knew he could adjust.

He looked around as his brother closed the door behind them, actually taking in his surroundings this time. The beige walls and dark coloured furniture created a simple yet inviting atmosphere. Although he was used to wealthy elegant settings, this was a nice change.

Flora came flying around the corner in a rush. "I'm so glad you're finally feeling better, Uncle Desmond," Flora smiled, having already formed a bond with him over the past four weeks.

Desmond smiled back, despite his soreness he still suffered from. His ribs still ached constantly as they still were healing. "I'm glad too. I'm not sure how much longer I could have put up with being in the hospital."

"I'm also happy you will be able to spend Christmas with us. I was excited to start decorating, but I waited for you because I know you were working hard to get well!" Flora said excitedly.

Desmond chuckled. "Well, that's quite kind of you. I hope I'll have enough energy to assist you when the time comes."

Flora's smile shrunk slightly. "That's okay. I understand. I'm ready any time you are."

Claire appeared from around the corner of the kitchen. "Lunch is ready. Hot vegetable soup for a cold December afternoon."

"And cucumber sandwiches! I made them myself. You have to try one, Uncle Desmond," Flora grinned, turning around to follow Claire into the dining room.

Hershel leaned closer to Desmond as he whispered. "She won't take no for an answer. Just... use caution when trying anything she makes," Layton warned.

Sycamore smirked, but Layton's face remained deadly serious.

"Oh... Is it really that bad?" Desmond asked.

"What are you two waiting for?" Claire called from the kitchen. "Your soup will get cold! I have very exciting news to share once we're all seated!"

Upon entering the eat-in kitchen, Desmond saw the set table. There were enough bowls for a family to share a meal, and it was something he had missed. He cautiously sat down (as to not hurt himself) with the Layton family, thinking of his wife and daughter, but quickly erased the thoughts, knowing this wasn't the time to dwell on the past. Seeing the eat-in kitchen reminded him: not everyone had a separate room for eating and cooking. He had grown up in a mansion with the Sycamore family, and he lived in a mansion with his wife; which both had separate kitchens and dining rooms. Yet, something about this combined kitchen and dining room reminded him of something. Then, it hit him. It reminded him of his childhood before Targent ruined his life...

* * *

"Theodore! Hershel! Come downstairs, it's time to eat!" Rachel called up the stairs to her children.

The two boys raced down the stairs and into the kitchen. Hershel sat into his chair quickly and smirked as Theodore seated himself secondly.

"Hah! I win," Hershel teased his younger brother.

"No fair! You're bigger and faster. It wasn't even supposed to be a race!" Five year old Theodore pouted.

Hershel laughed. "It's okay, Theo, I was only kidding around. It was supposed to be fun."

"Well, it wasn't. You're better at everything than me."

"Okay, boys. Settle down. Eat your food and tell me how school was today," Their father, Leon, changed the subject.

"It was good," Hershel answered simply. "I learned a lot."

"I can't wait to go to the same school with Hershel," Theodore chimed, automatically changing to admiring his brother. "Then I will be as smart as him!"

Rachel smiled at her son's enthusiasm. "Well, you need to finish the school you're in now. You'll need everything you learn there to move up with Hershel."

"Really, Mummy?!" Theodore's eyes sparkled.

Leon and Rachel both chuckled at their young, endearing son.

"Yes, really. Now eat your food, Theo," Rachel persuaded.

"See, Theo? You're good at a lot of things! You can make Mum and Father laugh easier than I can. All you have to do it say something adorable," Hershel encouraged him.

"B- But I wanna be tall and strong, not adorable," Theodore whined.

"Don't worry about that, Son," Leon said. "Just wait awhile. I'm sure you'll grow up to be just as tall, strong, and smart as Hershel; if not, smarter," Leon smirked at both his sons.

"Father..." Hershel rolled his eyes and slumped back in his chair.

"You think so? I can't wait to grow up!" Theodore was back to his cheery mood. The happy family resumed eating their meal without a care in the world, only love filling the room.

* * *

He remembered what love felt like, and he saw love here at the Layton household, as well. If Targent found them, all of that would be taken away. Desmond felt hatred festering up inside himself, wanting to make Targent suffer for what they had done.

"Desmond, are you all right?" Layton asked, seeing his brother's blank yet cold face.

Snapping out of his stare, Desmond realised he had been daydreaming in a flashback. Letting his anger die down, he looked around at the concerned faces of those at the table. "O- Oh... Yes. I'm fine..." He wanted nothing more to dismiss himself to his room to hide, but he forced himself to stay. Besides, even in his new room he would not feel at home.

"You must be exhausted," Claire said sympathetically, picking up his bowl from across the table to fill it with soup. "Here. This will give you energy," She handed it back to him.

"Thank you," Desmond thanked sincerely. "I apologise if I seem a bit distant at times... It's just going to take some getting used to being part of a family. I really do appreciate all you're doing for me."

"We're happy you are with us, Desmond," Layton assured.

"I know..." Desmond sighed, picking up his spoon and placing it in his soup. "I'm sorry for interrupting, didn't you have something important to say, Claire?"

"Wait, Claire," Hershel interrupted, unable to keep the secret. "I guarantee you I have something more important to say first... I can't keep it from you any longer."

Claire sighed and closed her eyes. "I knew it... I didn't want to believe it, but I knew you were hiding something from me..."

"I thought I had good reason, but I know I shouldn't have lied to you when you asked. I'm sorry, Claire. Please forgive me and listen," Hershel pleaded.

Claire sadly looked him in the eyes. "All right."

"Claire, Flora... the reason Desmond and I were separated as children is because of an organisation known as Targent. Our father was an archaeologist, and Targent is obsessed with knowledge about the Azran civilisation. Archaeologists that do not work for them willingly are taken by force... and so our parents were taken from us. Targent was thought to be defeated about a year ago, but it seems they're still around. Desmond does not know what their goals are now, but they are the ones behind his extreme injuries. They used to want Azran information, but now... All Desmond knows is that they are seeking to... destroy our biological father's bloodline, for an unknown reason."

Claire put a hand over her mouth and gasped.

"I didn't want you to worry about me. They most likely only want me and Desmond, considering neither of you are in the direct line of our father's heir..." Layton started. "But I know you have a right to know what is going on. We haven't seen or heard anything of Targent yet, so there's no need to worry, Claire and Flora. Desmond and I are going to do everything we can to stop them before they follow through with their goals. We aren't even certain of what they intend to accomplish."

Claire's eyes were filled with confusion and a stubbornness, not willing to let her husband put himself in harm's way. "Hershel, you can't just go hunt them down alone."

"The police have tried to end their madness before, but Targent is too sly... I will go to Scotland Yard to discuss this with Inspector Grosky later on today. As long as we stay together, we can be prepared for anything that might happen. I know this is a lot for you to take in... but let's just enjoy our meal right now," Hershel looked at Claire and Flora, who still appeared worried and concerned.

"This isn't something worth worrying about. Targent has not done anything since I found Desmond, so it may not be something to worry about at all. Perhaps they've already been found. After lunch, I will go inquire at Scotland Yard," Hershel said.

Claire sighed. "All right... I'm sorry you felt the need to hide this from me."

"No, I'm sorry. It was selfish of me. I don't deserve your trust anymore. I'm not much of a true gentleman..."

"Even true gentlemen aren't perfect, Hershel. I forgive you," Claire reached out and put her hand on his.

"I forgive you too, Professor," Flora said. "I'm not scared. You always keep me safe, no matter what," She smiled.

Hershel smiled a little bit. "I don't deserve you both..." After a short silence, Hershel remembered Claire had news she wanted to share. "Well, after all of that, I think it's about time for some good news. Claire, what were you going to tell us?" Hershel asked.

A smaller smile than Hershel expected appeared on Claire's face. "O- Oh... it's nothing. It's not important."

"Oh, come now. I know I deserve that after hiding this from you, but what is it?" Hershel urged.

"Well... I've known awhile now, but there was never a joyful, opportune time to tell you all," Claire paused as she looked at all of their anticipating faces. "... I was promoted at the lab," She smiled.

"That's wonderful, Claire!" Hershel beamed, proud of his wife.

"Congratulations," Desmond smiled warmly.

Flora also congratulated her, and the cheerful mood seemed to return to the family. They enjoyed their lunch, although a deep fear and anxiety still resided in each of their hearts. None of them knew when or how Targent would strike, but they were going to get through this as a family.

* * *

 **Don't forget to review before reading on! (Pleaseeee) :) ~Descole'sApprentice**


	10. Meeting with Grosky

"I'm here to speak with Inspector Grosky," Layton told the policeman at the front desk. He had come alone, because Desmond was too tired for any more travelling, and Flora had talking him into Christmas decorating with her.

"I think you mean Detective Inspector Grosky. He was promoted about a year ago. I'll let him know you're here to see him," The bobby left swiftly.

As Layton waited, he sighed. If anyone could do anything about this situation, it would be Grosky.

It wasn't long until Grosky sped into the lobby, taking Layton by surprise.

"Detective Inspector Grosky! Congrats on your promotion," Layton greeted.

"Congratulations to you, also, Layton! Chelmey told me you've off and gotten married! It's been a long time. What brings you to the Yard?" Grosky crossed him arms out of habit when asking a question, even though he wasn't interrogating Layton.

"Well... I think this would be best discussed in private."

"All right. To my office, then," Grosky led the way down a hall to a familiar room. Once they reached the door, Layton remembered it to be Bloom's office. As Grosky opened the door, however, it was not as tidy as it had once been.

"Don't mind the mess. Every time I come storming out of here, there's a bit of a tornado! Hahaha!" Grosky laughed. "Have a seat."

Layton made his way through and around the papers scattered across the floor to the seat in front of Grosky's desk. They both sat down, Grosky sitting behind his desk, shoving a stack of dishevelled papers out of the way so that he could see Layton.

"I wanted to talk to you about the arrest of Leon Bronev. I have reason to believe that Targent may still be around."

"What?!" Grosky exclaimed, sitting up in his chair straighter. "What makes you think that, Layton?"

"Well... It's rather complicated. Desmond Sycamore came to me, severely injured, four weeks ago. He told me it was all Targent's doing, but it wasn't to get information. They were trying to kill him. He escaped before they were able to end his life, but he told me that they were coming not only for him but me too... That's all he can remember."

"Hmm..." Grosky put a hand to his chin, leaning back in his chair. "I suppose it could have something to do with the case you were both investigating together. I'm afraid I would need more evidence before the Yard will allow me to take on your case. However, I will tell you what I know about Bronev's arrest. After I arrested Bronev and everything was taken care of in Froenborg, I made my way to Targent's hideout, where my most trusted troops were. It is possible that some Targent scum escaped... but I would have no idea what their names would be, or where they are now. You might try questioning Bronev. He is currently in a prison on the outskirts of London. I would come with you, but I'm packed with responsibilities right now. However, if you obtain any sound proof about Targent still existing, you can count me in, Layton!"

"Thank you, Inspector— Ah, I mean, Detective Inspector Grosky," Layton corrected himself.

"Hah! Has a nice ring to it, doesn't it?" Grosky glanced at the clock on the wall and stood up. "I'd best be off. Just let me know if there's anything I can do! Grosky out!"

As Grosky darted out of his office, Layton held onto his hat while the papers around the office scattered everywhere in the air. After the rush of wind had calmed, the papers slowly floated back down to the ground.

Hershel stood still, pondering Grosky's words. "I suppose it's time Desmond and I pay Bronev a visit..."


	11. Decorating

**It will probably be a week or two until I upload another chapter. (Work :p) But I'll try to get back into my stories after this trip!**

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Back at the Layton household, Flora had talked Desmond into helping her decorate the house for Christmas. After eating lunch, Sycamore felt a bit more energised, but he was still tired. However, it wasn't too hard for Flora to talk him into decorating, since Flora's pleading voice reminded Desmond of his daughter.

"It looks great so far!" Flora clapped. "The professor will love it. We gotta keep decorating before he gets back!" She pulled a long strand of green garland out of the cardboard box that had mostly been emptied.

"Don't you think he would want to help with some of the decorating?" Desmond smiled, helping her pull the strand out of the box.

"Well, yeah. He's going to help with the tree. It's not a real tree, though. The professor is allergic to the pine."

Desmond reminisced as he took the garland over to the doorframe. Flora moved the chair they had been using to stand on to reach high places.

"Yes, I remember that now..." Desmond mused. "When we were children, we had to switch to an artificial tree. We had just bought a tree at the beginning of December and decorated it, but then he started complaining about not being able to breathe clearly. A few days passed, and we realised it was the tree causing his discomfort. We soon purchased an artificial tree, and we very much enjoyed getting to decorate a tree a second time," Desmond laughed. "It was our last Christmas together..."

Flora stood on the chair as he finished his story. "Oh... Well, this is my first Christmas with the professor. I guess it will be a new sort of Christmas for both of us."

Desmond smiled as he handed her the garland. Once she took it, She began hanging it on the hooks above the door. As Desmond reached up to help her, a sharp pain in his side returned. He grimaced, grasping his side with both hands.

"Are... you okay, Uncle Desmond?" Flora asked concernedly, just finishing hanging the garland before she stepped down from the chair.

"I... believe so..." Sycamore kept his eyes closed. "I just need to rest."

"That's okay... I can finish up the last couple decorations," Flora said, dragging the chair away from the door, but Desmond could hear the disappointment in her voice.

"I'm sorry, Flora..." Desmond shuffled over to the sofa and sat down carefully. He carefully rested his back against the sofa.

"It's really okay. I just want you to feel better," Flora smiled to assure him that she wasn't severely disappointed. "Let me get you some tea," Flora immediately started toward the kitchen.

Desmond was going to stop her, but she was out of sight before he could. He smirked. The Laytons all seemed to believe tea could solve every problem. Raymond had offered him tea frequently when he was troubled, but not even as often as the Laytons did. Thinking about Raymond, the constant aching in his heart grew. Would anything ever make the pain go away, he wondered. He knew there wasn't, but he couldn't help but hope.

While Sycamore was lost in thought, the door opened quietly.

"The decorations are coming along nicely," Hershel closed the door behind him after he had entered. Taking off his coat, he hung it on the coat rack.

Desmond sighed shortly. "Yes. They were. Until my side began aching again."

Hershel frowned, walking over to him. "Does it hurt badly? Have you taken deep breaths recently?"

Sycamore hesitated. "No... It hurts too much to do so..."

"Have you taken your pain medication yet? You were supposed to take it at lunch time."

"No. I'll be fine. I don't need it," Desmond excused. "I've never taken medications before because I know that they do more harm than good."

"I doubt you've ever had to recover from something this serious, either. You must do as Doctor Wattford instructs, Desmond. If you don't, you could catch pneumonia."

"You're being overdramatic," Desmond rolled his eyes.

"No, I'm entirely serious. I know medications can have unpleasant side effects, however—"

"Why do you insist upon treating me in this condescending way, Layton?!" Sycamore stood up, his fists clenched. "I can handle the pain without medicine. I think I should know if I need it or not!"

"Desmond! My intent is not to be condescending. You are at high risk of infection, and the medicine will help prevent that. I only don't want you to end up back in the hospital. Please, just take the medication and take some deep breaths."

Sycamore grumbled, then tried to change the subject. "I will later. What did you discover on your journey?"

"I'll tell you, once you've—"

"I should have expected that..." Desmond complained, staggering away from Layton.

"Where are you going?" Layton questioned.

"I'm going to where I can be alone," Jean Descole muttered, continuing towards his room.


	12. Alone

**I'm back and I survived! Sorry it's a short one, but I'm still trying to figure out where this story is headed exactly -.-**

 **the banana queen123: Thanks for favouriting!**

 **ImmortalSpuffy202: I love how you started your review with "Descole is being moody again," it made me laugh! (Even though it is very true!) Sometimes your reviews even give me good ideas for future chapters, so thanks for that too! Always looking forward to your reviews! :)**

Alone. Although Descole may be stuck here with this family, he would always feel alone. His true family was gone, and living here only brought back memories of his deceased loved ones. The flashbacks were too much to handle. Every time Descole came back to reality, sorrow overtook him, knowing he would never be able to find happiness like that again.

A knock on the door brought him out of his thoughts. "Uncle... I brought your tea."

Slowly standing up, Desmond put his hand over his ribs to ease the pain as he headed to the door. He opened the door just enough to reach his arm out. Once he felt the hot cup in his hand, he brought it into the room and closed the door.

"I'm sorry I cannot finish decorating with you, Flora..." Desmond sighed. "I just need some time alone."

"It's okay... I hope you feel better soon," Flora said.

Desmond heard her walk away, leaving his presence. He slowly trudged back toward his bed and set the teacup on the nearby short dresser, which was about waist high. Sitting on the edge of the bed, he ran his hands partway through his hair, stopping to rest his head in his hands. If Elaine were still alive, she would know how to comfort him; but if she were alive, then there would be no need for this immense sorrow.

Looking up, he was met with his reflection in front of him. The long mirror showed a broken, confused man who felt as if nothing could cure him of these depressing feelings. Anger built up inside himself. He couldn't understand why Layton had a reputation of a gentleman, all he ever did was scold him. Descole realised that his own attitude wasn't easy for others to put up with, but Raymond had always been so patient with him. Layton practically forced decisions that Descole didn't choose. It infuriated him. Raymond never forced him to do anything, only advised him of what choice he should make.

His anger turned back to sadness as he thought of Raymond. Needing to release his feelings of resentment and sorrow, he stood up as his emotions grew. Descole paced back and forth while trying to erase every thought from his mind, but he couldn't stop thinking of his butler and friend. Raymond, the only one who had always been there for him throughout his entire life, was gone. It happened so suddenly and quickly, just as Elaine and Jean's deaths had been. Descole tried to calm his laboured breathing. They were all dead.

Not only were they dead, but now he was alone. No one understood him. Tears began to build in his eyes. Unable to contain his agony any longer, Descole quickly looked around the room, trying to find something to take his anger out on before the shameful tears were able to fall. His eyes fixed firmly on the pillows setting on the bed. Curling his fingers tightly around the feather filled object, he was about to throw it against the wall. Once he swung and released his grip on the pillow, he cried out, terrible pain ripping through his entire body. Wrapping his arms around his ribs, he stumbled over to the dresser which was next to the nightstand, trying to support himself from falling. As he leaned on it, he breathed heavily and closed his eyes as the tears slid out. It was so frustrating and maddening that he couldn't even throw a proper tantrum with his injuries. As more tears rolled down Descole's face, he tried to think of a different way to release his emotions. He normally found something to destroy in rage, but he wasn't even physically able to, aside from the fact that Layton wouldn't be happy to find the room in disarray.

Descole rarely cried in anger, but because of his inability to throw things, there were no other options but to let his tears free.

There was another knock at the door. "Desmond? I know you want to be alone... but I just wanted to make sure you're all right," Layton said concernedly.

Swallowing, he answered. "I'm fine... Leave," Descole growled lowly, ready to start a fight if the door were to open.

After a few seconds, Hershel answered. "... As you wish."

It wasn't long before Descole heard Hershel walk away. His feelings simmered down slightly. Perhaps Layton finally understood. At least he trusted him enough not to kill himself now. Descole had felt like a child in the care of a parent, but now perhaps Layton realised he was due some respect. After all, Descole was his older brother. Although things hurt now, he knew he could get through this. Desmond Sycamore truly cared for his new family, and he was going to do whatever it took to protect them from Targent.


	13. Tea, Chess, and Another Argument

**I wish I could get the story out of my head and into text faster than I actually do... Thank you for your patience, all! :)**

 **ImmortalSpuffy202: There is plenty of Desmond Flora bonding coming up for you! Also thanks for the spelling correction!**

* * *

Later that evening, Desmond began taking the medication he was prescribed. During dinnertime, Layton told his family of all he had learnt on his trip to Scotland Yard, and that he and Desmond would need to visit their father for more answers. Desmond gave Layton a glare, but no one else noticed. Desmond knew it wasn't the time to make a scene, but he was anxious to talk his brother out of this.

After dinner, the brothers both sat in the living room and enjoyed tea. After awhile, they began a game of chess. Claire sat next to Hershel and watched the competitive game while she knitted.

Flora couldn't help but cheer for Desmond. "C'mon, Uncle Desmond! The professor always wins everything, you need to change that for once!"

Desmond chuckled. "I intend to do just that. I think he needs to be humbled every once in a while," He smirked as he moved one of his pawns forwards, starting the game.

The game continued on, the brothers taking their time in placing each piece. It was a long, intense game, each of them being proficient with their own strategies. Flora continued cheering for her uncle throughout the game, but she started to lose interest as the game dragged on. However, she still was happy to be with her new family.

After about an hour of playing, Desmond finally found a weakness. Moving his rook into position, he smirked at his brother. "Check."

Hershel smiled and put a hand to his chin. "I knew I couldn't avoid that much longer..."

Flora was excited once again, knowing the game could end at any moment. After a couple more moves, Desmond had Layton cornered.

"Checkmate," Sycamore sat back and smiled proudly, finally beating his brother at something.

"Yay!" Flora clapped. "Way to go, Uncle Desmond!"

Desmond laughed, sitting back more relaxed now that he had won the game. "Was there ever any doubt?"

Layton chuckled. "Good game, Desmond."

Flora's smiled faded as she yawned and stretched. "I had a lot of fun today. It made me tired fast. I guess I'll go to bed a little early so we can have even more fun tomorrow," Flora got up and began leaving.

"Goodnight, Flora," The three of them wished her.

After she was out of sight, Desmond looked back at Layton. "Did you let me win just to make her happy?"

"Now, Desmond, a true gentleman always plays a game to the best of his ability," Layton said profoundly, a smile on his face.

"But doesn't a true gentleman also do his best to make sure a young lady is happy?" Desmond argued.

"But more importantly, a true gentleman is honest," Layton tried to make his point.

Claire laughed with them as she finished up her row of knitting. "You two! Did you squabble this much when you were younger?"

"But of course," Desmond answered.

Their laughter died down. Amidst the silence, Claire sensed the brothers wanted to talk alone, so she wished them goodnight also, and left for her room.

There was a bit more of a silence after Claire left. Desmond tried to think of a calm way to explain why he couldn't speak with Bronev. "Layton... you don't understand how much tension there is between Bronev and I. I cannot go."

"But between the two of you, perhaps we can get some information on Targent's whereabouts."

Desmond was silent in thought. Trying to reply calmly once again, he let out a breath. "It's Christmas holiday... can't it wait until later?"

"I think it being Christmastime makes this a perfect opportunity," Layton tried to persuade. "Also, it would be hard for me to find any other time. Between all the time I took off during your recovery, I would hate to take off more time from lecturing. Most importantly, we need to get to the bottom of Targent's goals before they can follow through."

Desmond knew he couldn't keep calm while explaining to Hershel why he refused to go. "Do you even know what Bronev has done?! I told you already, he's killed his own flesh and blood! His own granddaughter and daughter in law... The disgusting man is twisted and evil," Descole muttered, his pupils narrowing. He clenched his teeth and tightened his fists. "I hate him more than words can describe..." His voice was evil and low. "He's ruined my life and he does not deserve the honour of seeing his sons... Especially at Christmastime. I want him to rot and die alone in his miserable prison cell."

"Desmond!" Layton stared at him firmly. "He is still a human being. I know about the terrible things he has done, but we need information from him, regardless. I'm not asking you to forgive him; I'm only asking that you come along in case anything he says brings back your memories."

"Maybe my memories... perhaps they're not supposed to be remembered..." Desmond closed his eyes tightly and hung his head. "I can guarantee anything I would remember would be extremely unpleasant..."

"I'm aware of that, Desmond..." Hershel said in a compassionate tone. He put his hand on shoulder. "I know it's a lot to ask of you, but if my family is in grave danger, I have no choice but to ask for your help. I understand if you must decline for your own sanity's sake, but I want you to think about it."

Sycamore sighed, bringing his head back up. "I promised you I would do whatever it takes to stop Targent... I'll come, but it will take everything within myself not to abuse the pitiful man..."

Layton took his hand off his shoulder. "I would prefer if Desmond Sycamore would come with me... but I suppose I'll have to settle for Jean Descole."

Descole shot him a glare, his voice turning back to deep and spiteful. "You think I'm as evil as he is, don't you?"

Hershel hesitated. "I never said—"

"For your information, I never killed anyone in any of my acts. I never did anything as drastic as he did. Besides, why should I apologise for being a monster? He's the one who turned me into one. Everything I am today is all **his** fault!"

"It was still your own choice. You cannot deny the fact that you hurt many people, and the thought of killing had crossed your mind. In fact, you even attempted to kill before. How do your past wrong deeds make you feel? You have changed now. I'm certain Bronev has had much time to reflect and change, just as you have."

"You're not getting the point... That doesn't change what he's already done," Descole shook his head. "It's not like he will apologise to me, and even if he did, I will never be able to forgive him."

"Nothing can change what you've done either, but all of that is done and over with. I'm not bringing this up to haunt you, only to remind you that the past is in the past. I don't hold any of it against you."

"I didn't kill your wife and daughter!" Descole shouted in a whisper as to not wake Flora. "He took away everything I loved! All that comforted me! Forgiveness isn't even a choice! How dare you compare this to your forgiveness..."

"I'm sorry... I didn't mean to make it sound that way. I know this is a much more complicated rivalry than ours was, but that doesn't excuse you to hold a grudge. Holding in anger only hurts yourself more than it's hurting him."

"You don't know that, Layton," Descole argued.

"He may have much remorse... but the point is you cannot keep this anger keep building inside of you. It will tear you apart."

"It already has..." Descole rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Jean Descole is the result of it... I cannot escape the hate. I said I would live for justice, but I lied. Descole is who I am now, whether you like it or not. Nothing will ever change that. Sycamore died with Jeannie and Elaine..."

Layton sighed. "Just remember... I'm always here if you need help. It does not matter to me what you call yourself... you're my brother and friend."

"I know..." Descole said indifferently, not sure how to feel about his brother. Some days, Layton was a good friend and comfort. Other days, Descole wanted nothing more than to strangle him. "So when are we planning to take a trip over to the prison, then?" Descole changed the subject.

"Tomorrow morning. Flora wants to decorate the Christmas tree tomorrow afternoon, so we must leave as early as possible so that we have more time to speak with Bronev... if the prison will allows us the time. Well..." Layton stood up and put a hand to the brim of his hat to straighten it. "I suppose we ought to try to get some rest now. Goodnight, Brother," Layton began leaving for bed.

Descole sighed. "Goodnight, Brother. Sleep well."

Descole's caring words caused Layton to stop in his tracks for a second. He smiled, and continued to his bedroom. Descole may have been difficult to have as a new part of the family, but his heart was in the right place... most of the time.


	14. A New Morning

**This is a short one, but I hope you'll enjoy this one and the next. I won't tell you to review both chapters this time, since there is not much to say about this one. ;)**

 **ImmortalSpuffy202: I am happy that I always have your review to be thankful for! :) I can never say thank you enough for your kind and helpful reviews!**

As the sun rose along London's horizon, Hershel Layton sat contently with a cup of tea. He smiled as he looked out the window at the rare sight of the fogless sky. Only the yellow sun's glow filled the room. After taking a sip of earl grey, he sighed. He hadn't much alone time recently and since he wasn't able to sleep, he took this opportunity to be up early, alone. As the clock neared six thirty, he heard a quiet voice.

"Are you nervous about today?"

Layton turned to who he heard: his brother. He nodded slightly.

Descole smirked. "You needn't worry... I've calmed mostly. I intend to go solely to get questions answered."

Layton stood and glanced out the window one last time. "I'm glad. Whenever you're ready, we can head out."

"I'm ready whenever you are. Claire knows we're leaving... right?" Descole asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Yes, I told her last night. I learned my lesson from hiding things already. Let us go now."


	15. Visiting Bronev

Hershel and Desmond sat in the prison lobby, waiting to receive permission to visit with their father. They both nervously sat in silence, waiting for what seemed like forever.

Desmond took a slow, deep breath and let out. Since they were at a prison, he assumed the guise of Sycamore, but he was still Descole, cold and bitter inside.

Anxiety filled Hershel's stomach. The last time he had spoken with Bronev, he was devastated and broken. How would he react to seeing his sons after all that had happened?

"Mr. Bronev is ready to speak with you," The prison guard said to Desmond and Hershel.

The brothers stood up quickly, making their way over to the officer. The officer led them down a hall back to where the visiting rooms were. To the brothers' relieve, they were permitted a room to speak with Bronev alone.

As they walked, the guard told them, "He was extremely shocked to hear your names. I might warn you, he can act distant at times and not want to talk much, but you can certainly try."

"Thank you," Layton said gratefully as they came to the door. The guard opened it, and let the professors in, Layton leading the way.

As they slowly entered the room, Desmond's heart pounded in anticipation. His eyes caught sight of Bronev, who was facing away from them, sitting in a chair. Seeing the back of his head, the man who had murdered his family, Descole knew he couldn't suppress his anger this whole time.

Once they entered, they stopped, still quiet a distance away from Bronev. Not behind glass or bars, apparently Bronev was trusted not to hurt anyone. There was a table with a few other chairs around it in the room, but other than that, there wasn't much in the room.

Layton didn't know how to start this conversation. Each one of them wondered who was going to speak first.

"Can it really be true? Both of my sons are here, as friends, near Christmastime to see me..." Bronev hung his head further, refusing to face them. "I fear if I turn around, I will only be disappointed. A- Are you really here...?"

"Yes, Bronev. We're really here," Layton started, walking forward a bit more. "We've come with some questions that we are hoping you can answer."

Bronev turned his head quickly to face them. His eyes were filled with shock and sadness. "Y- You really are here..." Bronev slowly stood from his chair and stepped one foot closer to them. "Come closer, my sons."

"Don't call us that!" Descole snapped, stepping next to Layton. "All you've ever done is bring us pain and misery!"

"Desmond," Layton put a hand on his shoulder. "Remember our purpose in coming here."

"No... He is right," Bronev humbly seated himself. "I... I know I owe you both much more than an mere apology... but I suppose there's nothing I could ever do to prove how truly sorry I am..." Bronev returned to hanging his head in shame. "I- I was entirely obsessed with unlocking the Azran Legacy that I lost sight of who I was..." Bronev looked back up at his sons with tears of remorse in his eyes. "But, Desmond, I want you to know—"

"I believe you mean my other self. That's not my name anymore," The hateful man gave Bronev a cold glare in return.

The tears fell from Bronev's eyes. "No. I meant Desmond Sycamore. He is the one I need to speak to," He could no longer look into Descole's disapproving eyes; he hung his head once again. "That day when I captured your family and led you to the Nest, I had a plan. Once I revealed who I was to you, I was sure you would join. When you refused... it made me furious. I had spent so much time tracking where you were, and I wanted nothing more than to be a family again... So I shot your wife to make you join... b- but I- I instantly regretted it. When I heard your cries as you held your dying wife," Bronev's voice shook. "I knew I had let my emotions get the best of me. I t- tried to save her..." He wept, his voice trembling.

"I don't believe your lies!" Descole muttered, his teeth clenched tightly. "S- She died in my arms! As if you really had the heart to save her!"

"I did want to save her! When I ordered the guards to take you away from her body, it was because I wanted to get her medical help... but it was too late. I couldn't eat or sleep at all for several days because of the guilt I felt. The guilt still plagues me to this day."

"You deserve every ounce of guilt that you feel," Descole growled, inching closer to Bronev. Layton put a hand on his shoulder again to stop him from physically harming Bronev.

"I also want you to know that I wasn't the one responsible for your daughter's death. I know you probably won't believe me, but..." Bronev swallowed. "I never intended to harm her. While I was trying to help your wife, there was a misunderstanding... It was second in command who initiated it all... I was going to use her to get you to work for T- Targent... Since your wife had died, Jean would have been all you had left. I knew you wouldn't be able to r- refuse any longer if I threatened to kill her. I- I wanted your knowledge on the Azran so terribly that I eventually broke you, but that was never my intent," Bronev drew in a shaky breath. "The reason I let you free was because I couldn't stand to watch what I had done to you. Even in my obsessive state, I still felt my true self from time to time. I- I'm so sorry for all that I've put you through... I only want you to know I'm not that man anymore. I- I'm not going to ask for forgiveness because I already know you won't forgive me, and I don't blame you... You have every right in the world t- to hate me. What hurts the most to think about is that I gave up my two sons all for such frivolous goals..." Bronev buried his tearful face into his hands as he wept.

As Bronev mourned, Descole glared condescendingly down at him.

 _He deserves this,_ Descole thought. _Everything I've done as Descole was all just to see this: to see him suffer. To see him broken; shattered. To make him pay. This is what I wanted._

Descole should have felt victorious, justified, or at least at peace, now that the man who killed his beloved wife and daughter was getting what he deserved. He didn't know why, but he didn't feel any of those things. If all Bronev said was really true, then there was no reason for Descole to hold a grudge against him. He truly regretted it all. After all, Desmond knew himself what it was like to be controlled by his inner demon. Everything just would happen so quickly, and nothing else mattered but his goal in the moment. Thinking back, he remembered how close he was to killing Layton several times. Bronev and he were not that much different.

Descole shook his head, too many thoughts consuming him. Bronev had about regained his composure, and he still had more to say.

"The only time I was ever truly happy... was when I was a father to you both. Raising my own two children brought such great joy, and I didn't know how lucky I was until I lost them. I want to blame everything on Targent for capturing me to begin with... but everything from that point on was my own choice. I fear it was truly my own pride that consumed me in the end. Everything I put you through last year, all for some myth of a treasure... I have no right to call you my sons. I never would have been able to raise up two boys to be brave, noble men who would later give their own lives to save humanity. You've both grown up to be greater men than I could have ever imagined to be... Nothing pained me greater that day of the Azran awakening than seeing how quickly you both volunteered to fix my mistake with your lives. Rachel would be so proud of you both... But enough of that. I'll let you speak now."

"Bronev..." Layton started, even finding himself that it was difficult to forgive Bronev for last year's suffering. "Before I let you know why we're here, I want you to know I hold nothing against you. I forgive you."

Bronev looked up at his son, his sad eyes wide. "I wasn't expecting that... not even from you. How can you say that after I turned Emmeline against you? I threatened your parents. I don't deserve to be forgiven..."

"Even if you're not ready to forgive yourself, I want you to know that I hold nothing against you," Layton said.

There was a silence that Descole knew was intended for him to fill. He could never forgive Bronev. Nothing could change the fact that he was the reason for all the tragedy in his life.

Layton and Bronev both knew Descole wasn't going to apologise anytime soon, so Bronev changed the topic. "I thank you for that, Layton. So, tell me, what exactly brings you both here?"

Layton walked closer to the table to sit down. Descole stayed standing where he was, unwilling to put himself at ease. As Layton seated himself, he sighed. "We were wondering if you would be able to help us in tracking down Targent by answering a few questions. It seems as if Targent still exists."

Leon's eyes grew wide. "N- No... it cannot be."

"Need proof?" Descole asked, almost in a mocking tone as he walked over to side of the table in between Layton and Bronev. He lifted his shirt to show his wounds that were in the process of healing into scars.

Bronev's eyes, that were filled with shock, changed to a look of horror as he laid sight on his son's severe scars covering his torso. "They... They did this to you...?"

Descole rolled his eyes, tucking his shirt back in. "Don't act so surprised; it's not like you haven't tortur—"

Layton glared firmly at him. "Desmond, please. I need you to stay focused. Please."

Descole sighed angrily and looked back at Leon. "I will tell you what I know. I cannot remember how, when, or why they abducted me. The only thing I can remember is that... my butler is now dead... and also they told me that they want to wipe out the existence of the Bronev bloodline. In other words, they want all three of us dead."

Leon did not know how to react to all that his son had just told him. "Why...?"

Desmond sighed. "I've no idea, that's why we've come here. We were hoping you could help give us some answers about what is going on."

"Specifically, perhaps you have an idea as to who their new leader might be?" Layton inquired.

Bronev silently thought. "I... don't know. All of my top men were extremely loyal to me... Perhaps it's one of the captives who became bitter..." Bronev pondered. "But someone who knew about our family... I wouldn't have an idea at all."

"Do you know where their hideout could be?" Desmond asked.

"I- I wouldn't know where to start..." Bronev stuttered. "Targent had countless bases around the world. If I had more information, perhaps I could narrow it down..."

Desmond sighed in frustration. "Ugh, why can't I remember anythi— Ngh!" Desmond grasped his side and bent forward as a spasm of pain shot through his body. "Curses!"

Leon sympathetically looked over at Layton as Desmond tried to catch his breath. "How long has he been recovering?"

"Four weeks now. It's a miracle he's recovered enough to be on his feet already. We almost lost him... Targent truly showed him no mercy. Out of the injuries he sustained, a majority of them were external; but he also suffered from internal bleeding, and a few ribs were fractured, which still ail him the most."

"Thank you for that brief summary of my agony, Layton," Descole muttered satirically.

"Do you know the causes of his injuries?" Bronev asked, his face saddening at hearing how his son had suffered.

"Most of them appeared to have been caused by blunt trauma... but aside from that, his back... appeared as if several lashes had been delivered."

Bronev's countenance fell further. He put a hand to his face. "I... I don't know what to say. I wish I could have stopped all this from happening."

"Just tell us what you know! We need to stop them from doing the same thing to Layton!" Descole was tired of this circle they seemed to be going in.

"Now that I think about it," Bronev furrowed his brow as he thought. "Perhaps this information will be of use. There were a few techniques Targent used for the more stubborn archaeologists, who didn't have families to threaten. Normally, most people would break just from physical beatings, but..." Bronev shook his head sadly. "punishments for those who didn't cooperate would be quite severe. Whips were rarely used, sometimes for prisoners that disobeyed direct orders... it sickens me now to think of all the pain that was inflicted on others through Targent..."

Desmond started becoming uncomfortable, trying to remember when he had been put through that since the proof of whipping covered his back, yet also trying not to remember and block out his words.

"Another common, sickening method Targent used for those who repeatedly disobeyed was complete isolation. Many Targent bases would have pitch black, soundproof rooms. Before putting a prisoner in one of these rooms, they would straightjacket and gag them, to strip them of all their senses. They would be left inside there, normally beaten severely prior, for days on end to starve, until they were near death."

As Desmond thought of all Bronev had just said, his breathing began to quicken. He could hear his own heart pounding, and it became louder and louder. It was as if the floodgates of his mind opened. All the pain and misery came rushing back to him.

"AGH!" Desmond cried out, clutching his head in his hands, shutting eyes tightly, his body hunching over.

"Desmond, what is it?!" Layton stood quickly, immense worry filling his eyes. Bronev stood as well, just as concerned.

"I- I- I don't want to remember! G- Get out of my head! NO!" Desmond's eyes flashed open. His pupils became constricted as he backed away from Layton and Bronev.

Layton took a step towards him, reaching his arm out towards him. "Desmond—"

"Make it stop!" Desmond screamed as he fell to his knees, his head still tightly held in his hands. He began to sway to the side.

Layton quickly stumbled next to him as he fell. Lowering Desmond into his arms, he tried to assure him. "It's all right. You needn't think anymore. Just breathe, Desmond."

"Don't t- touch me..." Desmond panted as he convulsed. "I- I can't... take this... all these memories... T- They're too painful... Ngh..." Desmond's eyes slowly closed as his body fell limp in Layton's arms.

"Desmond!" Layton shook him, but it was too late. Layton looked up at Bronev. "I think it's safe to assume he's remembered some things," As Layton felt Desmond's pulse, he sighed. "He seems to have only fainted."

"Good," Bronev was relieved. "Targent could have been waiting for him to reach this breaking point... you'll need to be on your best guard, Layton."

Hershel nodded. "I will do all that's in my power to stop Targent. Thank you for your time, even if this didn't go as expected," Layton apologised.

"Farewell, my son. I... I wish there was more I could do," Bronev said sombrely.

"You've actually helped immensely," Layton looked down at his unconscious brother. "Even if this was the end result. If Desmond can remember the location of their base, perhaps we'll have a lead then."

Bronev sighed. "I hope so. And I hope you'll end up having a merry Christmas, as well."

"I wish the same to you."


	16. Home Again

**I'm sorry for all the waiting. I'm having a terrible case of writer's block and I just got addicted to Layton Brothers Mystery Room and played all the cases through for the FIRST time from Sunday to Wednesday (and that was me trying to drag them out and enjoy them!) Now I can say I am a true Layton fan since I've played everything! I loved the game but now it's time for that post-Layton game depression again... -.-**

 **ImmortalSpuffy202: Thank you for your two lovely reviews and I will most certainly try to keep writing! You motivate me!**

Descole opened his heavy eyelids slowly. Although much was blurry and disoriented, he knew he was safe, back at his brother's home. Suddenly, all the memories from before came rushing back to him. His breath hitched as he shut his eyes tightly, wishing for all the pain to go away.

"Desmond?"

Descole felt a hand being placed on his shoulder. He was laying on his left side, facing away from his brother, and the last thing he wanted to do was talk to him about this. Tears had already begun to fill his eyes.

When Layton felt Descole's unsteady breathing with each rising motion of his shoulder, Hershel knew he was awake, however, he waited awhile before speaking again.

"Please talk to me. I've told you before it helps when you tell someone else—"

"N- Not this time, Layton... I- It's too soon... It all hurts so m- much..." Descole's voice was barely understandable as his sorrow choked his voice.

"I'll leave, if you wish to be alone for awhile," Layton sympathetically said, starting to take his hand off of Descole's shoulder.

Descole quickly brought his hand up to Layton's to stop him from taking it away. "No... I- I don't want to be alone..."

"All right," Layton gave his shoulder a squeeze. "Is there anything I can do?"

Descole took a deep breath and shakily let it out. "No. Just stay here... Think of something inspirational to say," He muttered sarcastically.

Layton chuckled, but then stayed quiet. He sat, thinking of a way he could comfort his brother. After a few quiet moments of only hearing Descole's pained breaths, Hershel spoke. "Just remember... Everything that's happened to you: it's over with. You needn't dwell on it. All the pain is ending. Everything will be okay, and time will help put a distance between you and the suffering."

"But it's all so vivid... I doubt if I could ever forget it, even with time. I cannot believe I ever wanted to remember all of this..." Descole still wouldn't face Layton.

"I'm sorry... I suppose this is all my fault," Layton apologised.

"Well, we got what you wanted, didn't we?" Descole said spitefully.

Layton though a moment. "What do you mean?"

Descole finally rolled onto his back carefully and gave Layton a blank stare. "I know where that wretched torture hideout is and how I escaped. I refuse to go back there, and I won't let you go alone. Chances are, they've already fled that base."

"Then what do you propose we do?" Layton asked.

Descole groaned, sitting up slowly as he thought. Propping himself up with one arm, he looked down and sighed. "Christmas is three days away... can't we just take a break from this? I just want to forget that any of this ever happened..."

"As much as I want to know everything... I know you've been through quite enough already. I won't press you any further today. I'm sure you do need a break from thinking about all of this, but after Christmas we need to talk. We must stop them."

"I understand... thank you. Now how to contrive a way to distract myself from my misery," Descole put his head in his hands and closed his eyes.

"Flora waited for you to wake up to decorate the tree... she didn't want to do it without you. She would have done it first thing in December, but she was determined to do it as a family. She may have lost her real family, but she sees the importance of staying close to those who are not family by blood, but those who care and watch out for her."

Desmond smiled quickly, but then it faded. "I suppose decorating with her will keep me busy enough. Maybe I could even learn contentment from her. If I can stay sane long enough."

Layton smiled. "I think you should try. She will be overjoyed."

Desmond sat up and rolled his eyes. "All right. She always seems to find a way to lift my spirits."


	17. Christmas

**Things are about to get crazy for my summer. I really really want to finish this story for all of you reading this. I will try my best to keep writing and stay inspired... and post it all eventually, hopefully before autumn.**

 **ImmortalSpuffy202: I love how you see Descole as the "weird uncle"! It's so appropriate, since he can be quite introverted. Then Flora is just like this ball of energy, and when you put the two together, it makes for a cute, weird relationship! Haha :P**

 **Destiny Obake: I don't know if you're reading this story, but if you are, then thank you for favouriting "Because You're My Brother!"**

* * *

A soft knock on the door stirred Desmond from his sleep. Opening his eyes, he saw through the partially opened curtains that it was snowing outside.

"Merry Christmas, Brother," Hershel smiled.

Desmond moaned as he rolled over to face Hershel. "Ten more minutes would suffice."

Layton laughed. "We've already discussed this. Flora said should couldn't wait any longer than six thirty. There is tea ready that will help you wake up."

"Ugh... Fine. For Flora."

* * *

After they had all eaten breakfast (all except for Flora, who was "too excited,") they headed out to the living room. As they all seated themselves, Flora ran to the Christmas tree to be the deliverer of the presents.

"I think Uncle Desmond should open his present first," Flora proposed, picking it up from under the tree. As Flora sat next to him and handed him the small package, his dazed look didn't change. His mind began to wander back to a Christmas he shared with his wife and daughter... but then he pulled himself back before he lost himself.

"T- Thank you. I apologise, I'm still a bit tired. You really didn't need to get me a gift. You all have already done so much for me," Desmond smiled as he took the gift from Flora.

"But we wanted to!" Flora smiled. "C'mon, open it!"

"All right," Desmond laughed. He looked down at the grey, cube shaped package wrapped in a red bow. Desmond pulled on one of the tails of the ribbon and it let the box free. Opening the box revealed a shiny, silvery watch.

"It was my idea!" Flora let him know. "I noticed you look at your wrist a lot as if you used to have a watch to check the time."

"That was a brilliant observation, Flora. I'm sure the professor has taught you well to think that way. Thank you all very much," Desmond thanked as he looked deeply into the watch's face, taking everything inside himself to stay in the present time. Not only was this object the same that his wife and daughter had once given him, but it closely resembled the one they had given him, as well.

"Do you like it?" Flora asked in a hopeful voice.

"I do... it reminds me of my family," Desmond smiled honestly, truly able to be happy just thinking of the memories of his family. "I think each of you should open your gifts from me now," Desmond placed the lid back over the box then set it aside. "Flora, would you get them for me? I'm still a bit sore."

"Of course!" Flora hurried over to the tree to find the presents with their names.

"You didn't need to get us presents either, Desmond," Layton started. "We know you have a lot on your mind right now. We would have understood if—"

"Nonsense," Desmond shook his head. "I may have lost all of my possessions, but I still have a bank account. As you know, Hershel, I'm not hurting for money. I only hope I have been successful in choosing appropriate gifts for each of you."

Flora distributed the gifts to Claire and Hershel and held her own gift as she made her way back over to sit next to Desmond. Quickly and excitedly opening her medium sized gift, Flora's eyes lit up as she looked inside the box. "Bows! I've only ever had a red one, but I love all these colours!" Flora pulled out a lilac coloured bow and admired it.

"They're all made with the finest silk in all of London," Desmond let her know.

"I love them. I can't wait to start matching them with my outfits! Thank you, Uncle Desmond!" Flora threw her arms around him.

Desmond looked a bit stunned before he smiled and lightly hugged her back.

"Claire, open yours next," Hershel said.

"All right," She smiled, taking a more delicate, slow approach to opening the small, rectangular gift. With one of her thumbs, she lifted the lid off of the box. Inside, there was a rose gold chain bracelet resting on a soft cushion.

"Oh, it's beautiful!" Claire smiled warmly.

"There's more," Desmond smiled back.

"I hope you're not trying to

make my gift to her look pitiful in comparison, Brother," Layton laughed.

"That was not my intent," Desmond replied smirking. "The second part of her gift is actually partly for you. Check the bottom of the box, Claire."

Claire gently removed the small pillow that the bracelet lay on. Inside the box, she found a piece of paper. After unfolding it, she pinched the side of her glasses to adjust them closer to her face. Squinting, she attempted to decipher the messy handwriting.

"This voucher is for one fully paid date night with your beloved. Valid at anytime, for any place of your choice," Claire read. Looking back up at Desmond, she smiled. "Thank you, Desmond. You're so thoughtful."

"C'mon, Professor, what did you get?" Flora asked in anticipation.

"I couldn't fathom a guess..." Hershel smirked, then looked at Desmond. "I suppose we will see how well Desmond really knows me now," Hershel began opening his gift.

The contents of the box were revealed as he lifted the lid off of the box. He pulled out a tin container. "Tea... and if I'm not mistaken, it's one of the finest teas in all of Britain."

"Precisely. I could only choose the best for my dear brother," Desmond was still smiling. The family was happy to see Desmond happy for so long. Normally, he would only smile for a second before it faded. "That tea is one of my favourites. It's a special blend of Darjeeling. I believe you'll enjoy it."

"I'm sure I will. Thank you," Layton returned the tea tin to the gift box and pulled out a second gift. "A... puzzle?" Hershel examined each side of the colourful cube.

"It's called a magic cube. It's in an unsolved state right now. You're meant to twist each piece back onto its respective side so that each side is only one colour," Desmond clarified.

"Sounds magical to me!" Flora chimed in. "I don't think that's possible."

"Remember, every puzzle has an answer, Flora. I'm only surprised I haven't heard of this puzzle before..." Layton mused.

"It's fairly new. I predict it will become more popular with time," Sycamore guessed. "So, how did I do?"

"I suppose you know me better than I know myself," Layton admitted. He looked over at Flora. "Flora, before you open the rest of your gifts, do you mind if Claire opens her gift from me?"

"Oh, Hershel, I can wait," Claire urged.

Flora had already sprung up from her spot on the sofa. "No, I wanna see what you got!" Flora found her present in an instant. She hurriedly took it over to Claire. "Open it first!"

Claire giggled. "All right, then. Thank you, Flora," Claire opened her gift, calm on the outside, but very excited to see what her gentleman had bought her. The gift was perfectly square in flat box. It reminded her of a gift she had received several years ago. Slowly removing the lid, she smiled as she saw a familiar gold stopwatch.

"You had it replaced... I love it even more than the first time you got it for me... because it reminds me of how lucky I am to be here with you," Claire lovingly looked into Hershel's eyes.

Hershel smiled warmly and placed his hand her her forearm. "No. I'm the one who's lucky."

Claire let out a quiet laugh. "Maybe we're both lucky."

"Perhaps," Hershel shrugged. "but I still think—"

"Ahem," Desmond cleared his throat. "I think Flora wants to open her presents **today**... whenever you two are done having your moment."

Flora giggled. "I could wait all day. I just love being with you guys. This is going to be the best Christmas ever!"

* * *

 **So I need to know if I'm the only one: Whenever Desmond starts having a flashback, "Link's Memories", the song from Breath of the Wild when Link has a flashback, starts playing in my head. Anyone else see where I'm coming from? xD**


	18. Still Healing

**It's been a crazy busy summer so far, but I am determined to keep writing! Thank you to all my loyal readers! You are the reason I haven't "lost hope" for this story yet! (Pun intended, but I do actually love this story. Just getting it out of my head into written text is the hard part.)**

 **Dawndragon the Storyteller: I'm glad you enjoyed that last chapter! Clershel is my favourite ship ever!**

 **ImmortalSpuffy202: Yes someone understands my Breath of the Wild thing! That's funny yet sad about your brother's horses... haha.**

 **Sylvia Pewterschmidt: Thank you so much for following and favouriting!**

 **Baraayas: I'm glad you stumbled upon this fic too! Thanks for favouriting and for your review!**

 **MyLittleSnail and Feiryn89: Thank you both for following!**

 ** _THANK YOU ALL SO MUCH! The overload of notifications I got this last chapter made me so happy_** **! :D**

* * *

Christmastime passed, and soon it was a new year. Desmond still did not mention a word about Targent. Hershel had gathered the courage to confront him with questions several times, yet Desmond always managed to change the conversation onto a different course.

One January afternoon, Hershel came home early since he only had a morning class to teach and plenty of papers to grade. He knew he probably wouldn't get around to grading them until much later, but he planned to eventually that day. Claire was at the lab and Flora was still at school.

Hershel removed his coat and scarf and hung it on the coatrack as he looked around the house, trying to find signs of his brother. He walked into the kitchen, only to find it empty. Heading back out to the living room, Layton came to the stairs. "Desmond? I'm home," Layton called up the stairs. There was no reply. "Desmond!" Layton repeated anxiously, a little louder this time. He hurried up the stairs and noticed that the attic entryway was opened. Slowly climbing the attic ladder, he peeked his head up to see his brother doing push-ups. Completing another push-up, Desmond grunted as perspiration dripped off of his shirtless torso.

The only source of light was the small, circular window that was at the other end of the attic. Having recently moved in, Hershel and Claire hadn't collected many belongings that needed to be stored; therefore, only a few boxes lay in the corner behind the entrance. Above, there were beams in reach, but high enough that one wouldn't need to duck to walk under.

Layton pulled himself completely into the attic to talk with his brother. "Desmond... what are you doing?"

"What does it— ngh—" Descole grunted as he pushed his arms straight. "look like I'm doing?"

"It looks like you're exercising... but I couldn't fathom a guess why. You are still healing. You could hurt yourself," Layton warned.

Desmond groaned in response as he bent his arms back towards the ground. "It's been over a month."

"Are you sure you feel well enough, though?"

"I'm fine," Descole spat coldly, finishing his last push-up. Standing up, he faced away from Layton and stretched his arms outwards.

When Layton laid his eyes on the scars across his brother's back, a pang of sadness overwhelmed Layton's soul, knowing he had gone through unspeakable pain. Some of the slashes were still pink, in the process of healing, and some had finished healing that were now white, raised scars.

"Does your back still hurt? They really showed you no mercy..." Layton said with sympathy.

"I know where this is going, Layton," Descole said harshly.

"We cannot keep ignoring this topic. The longer we put it off, the closer Targent gets to completing their goal."

Descole grabbed the rafter beam above his head. Tightening every muscle in his body, he pulled himself up with all his might. "I don't—" Descole lowered himself slowly. "care. I have already told you, it is not relevant," Descole pulled himself back up a second time, grunting from the extreme tension in his muscles. As he lowered himself, Layton spoke.

"Perhaps you think that, but we need to put our minds together with the information you know."

"What does it matter?" Descole voice was strained as he began to pull himself up a final time. Gasping in pain, Descole dropped off of the beam and stumbled onto one of his knees as he wrapped his arms around his torso. "Agh! Blast it all!" Descole cried.

"Desmond! Are you—"

"Leave me alone! I'll never get better!" Descole shouted.

Layton sighed as he approached his hurting brother. "Part of me believes you don't mean physically."

"It doesn't matter what I meant!"

Layton kneeled next to Descole and put a hand on his sweaty shoulder. Tears slid down Desmond's face as he closed his eyes. "I cannot even remember what it feels like to be free of this aching in my soul... I- I miss my family s- so much... Blocking out what Targent has done to me has only left me with my family to think about."

"Desmond... your physical injuries are healing. Why is that?" Layton paused. "You let Doctor Wattford treat you. You followed his instruction, as well. You've been eating well. Recovery isn't easy, but it always requires that first step of admitting you need help. If you don't, you can never start healing."

Descole breathed heavily and unevenly. He turned his head towards his brother slowly as he convulsed, being weak from having exercised strenuously. "B- But I do not... need help."

Layton stayed silent, knowing he was wrong.

Desmond sighed, realising he was lying to himself. "I suppose you have a point... I never have admitted it. Fine. I'll give your method a try. I'll talk... just let me get presentable first."

Descole slowly got up. Staying by his side, Layton reached his hands out just in case Descole were to need help. Pushing past his brother, Descole made his way to the ladder and carefully hobbled down. He made his way towards the bathroom to shower. Layton closed the attic and waited for Descole to be ready. He went down to the kitchen to make tea. It wasn't long before Hershel heard his brother come down the stairs. As the tea finished boiling, the first notes of a song started ringing out from the piano in the living room. Recognising the song as the second movement of Beethoven's Sonata Pathetique, Layton instantly relaxed a bit. After he had finished preparing the tea, he carried a cup of tea for his brother and himself. Entering the room, he watched as Descole played the song with great emotion.

"When did you start learning piano? It sounds as if you've been playing for quite awhile."

"I started taking lessons when I was twelve..." Desmond answered as he played. "I enjoy it... but I'm nowhere near the pianist my wife was... she taught piano for awhile, and we both took turns teaching our daughter. She became quite the little pianist herself..."

"I'm sure they were both very skilled," Layton said.

Desmond continued playing, staying silent. Layton listened to him play for a few more minutes. As Desmond finished playing, he slowed down and gently played the last chord. Gracefully, he lifted his hands off of the keys. Lifting his foot off of the pedal left the room completely silent.

After awhile, Desmond turned to Layton. "I... I really am fine now... I needn't burden you with my problems."

"You wouldn't burden me. I want to know what's troubling you."

"No you don't. You only want information about Targent. I don't want to talk about it. I've changed my mind," Desmond muttered, stood up, took his teacup, and headed for the staircase.

"Desmond..." Layton sighed, taking everything within himself not to lose his composure. He followed Desmond up the stairs. "You cannot keep hiding this from me. You must tell me. I've been living in fear of losing Claire and Flora for nearly a month now. You need to stop withholding information from me."

Desmond turned around quickly, his voice breaking. "You don't understand! None of it will be of use! I don't want to relive the suffering by telling you! Thinking about it is painful enough!"

"You can't fight me forever, Desmond," Layton's voice was firm.

"I won't talk. You cannot make me!" Descole continued up the stairs.

"I won't allow to stand by and just watch helplessly as my wife and daughter are taken from me!" Layton began to raise his voice as Descole entered his room.

"I've already told you! Telling you my memories won't help prevent that!" Descole slammed the door in Layton's face.

"Open the door, Descole," Layton commanded firmly, knowing his enemy was the one behind this door.

"Open it yourself if you want in so badly!" Descole spat, sounding further into the room now.

Layton had enough. He grabbed the doorknob tightly and burst into the room.

Descole turned towards Layton. His constricted pupils and deep voice were full of evil and hate. "I didn't think you had it in you, to cross the line like this."

Layton's irritation disappeared. As he looked into Descole's furious eyes and heard his spiteful voice, he remembered how confused and broken he was. Layton had lost his patience, and now he had only hurt his brother further. "Desmond... I apologise. I think we both need to calm down."

"I'll calm down when I want to!" Descole screamed. "Get out of here now before I make you!"

"Please, Desmond. I need answers. Please, just tell me what you know. I know it's hard for you, but I must know."

Descole laughed lowly, walking towards his nightstand. "As if I would. If I were you, I would listen to my advice and leave. If you don't, things are going to become very unpleasant for you," Descole set his teacup down, then looked back at Layton and saw that he wasn't going to move. "Do you want me to hurt you?"

"Desmond, pull yourself together," Layton tried to sway him back to sanity. Descole reached in between his bedside and nightstand and swiftly pulled his sword out from its sheath. Descole slowly approached Layton, his sword by his side.

"Desmond," Layton said in a deadly serious tone. "Think about what you're doing. You're not thinking straight. Your actions make no sense."

"It makes perfect sense!" Descole shouted. "You're in my way, so I'll get rid of you!" Descole flew towards Layton, pinning him to the wall behind him. Hershel gasped in pain as his breath was taken away from the unexpected impact.

"D- Desmond! T- This isn't you! Snap out of this, now!" Layton struggled to grasp what was happening before he could even fight back.

Descole's grip on Layton's shirt tightened. With his entire forearm, he pushed Layton into the wall harder. Layton groaned from the pressure against his chest, realising Descole really was gaining his strength back rapidly. Struggling to free himself, Layton tried to writhe away from his grasp.

Descole chuckled evilly as he quickly raised the sword to Layton's throat. "I wouldn't move so much if I were you. There's no escape."

Layton's struggling ceased as the sword came closer to him.

"You've always been in my way. Inviting me into your home has only made me hate you more... You're always so happy with your wife and daughter! You don't deserve such happiness! Meanwhile; I've had to stand by and watch and only think about the joy that was taken from me! What my envy feels like is indescribable... but perhaps the pain I'm about to put you through will give you a good idea!" Descole growled, pushing the sword closer to Layton's throat. He grunted as the cold metal touched his neck.

Just then, the brothers both heard a gasp. Their heads both snapped towards the door to see Claire, who was left speechless and frightened at the sight before her. Desmond's eyes dilated as he ashamedly released Layton and backed away from him. Breathing heavily, Desmond continued backing away, realising what he had done. He let the sword fall from his hand, letting the sword thud onto the floor. Sitting on the bed behind him, he put his head in his hands.

"I- I- I'm s- sorry... I- I don't know... what came over me..." Desmond mourned. "I... didn't mean... a word I said."

Layton slowly approached Desmond and seated himself next to him. Placing a hand on Desmond's back, Layton sighed in sympathy.

"Hershel...?" Claire's eyes were filled with concern.

"Claire, come here. We need to talk," Hershel said tiredly.

"What is it?" Claire asked, the worry in her eyes growing.

"Sit down, Claire, please," Layton implored.

Claire sighed nervously, wrapping her arms around each other as she slowly walked over to the bed. She looked down at the shaken Desmond for a moment, realising he was no longer dangerous. She quietly sat down next to him.

"C- Claire..." Desmond started, his voice shaking. "I'm s- sorry... I- I can't— control him... I'm so sorry..."

"Are you all right, Desmond? What are you going on about?" Claire asked, but did not receive a reply from Desmond. Claire look at her husband. "Hershel, what happ—"

"No," Desmond interrupted. "Let me explain. I've let my brother explain my faults far too many times."

"All right. I'm listening, Desmond," Claire moved closer to him. Desmond took a deep breath and swallowed the lump in his throat. Blinking away his tears, he looked up at Claire ashamed. After gathering his courage, he began. "You know I'm a criminal. Well, Descole is. He's terrorised towns and many people. I thought that Descole was gone. I thought I could hide him, keep him hidden away from you and Flora, but... I cannot. When I suppress my anger, sometimes he still comes back. I did not mean to lose my temper so badly... this time, it was as if I had no control over my actions."

Claire wasn't quite sure how to respond. "So... is it a spilt personality?"

Desmond ran a hand through his hair. "I don't know. I used to be able to control whether I was myself or Descole, but... now I'm not so sure. Just now, I was very well aware of what I was doing, but I could not stop myself... I- I'm sorry, Hershel. Maybe I should just leave so I'm not endangering you both..." Desmond hung his head.

"Nonsense!" Claire argued. "We want you here. We want to help you... and I really doubt Flora would let you leave us, as well. She's quite fond of you."

Desmond looked into Claire's eyes again with a helplessness. "But—"

"Desmond, it's out of the question! You're family, and family stays together... even through the hard times."

Desmond sighed slowly. "All right. I only don't want to hurt anyone..."

"I understand that. Do you know what caused you to change into Descole this time?" Claire questioned.

Desmond glanced at Layton, then looked down.

"I understand if you don't want to risk triggering it again. You don't have to tell me," Claire reached her hand out and rested it on Desmond's forearm.

Desmond looked back up at her with his tired eyes. He placed a hand on top of hers. "You deserve to know what's going on, and Hershel and I haven't been telling you everything. No more secrets, Claire," Desmond brushed Claire's hand off of his arm as he stood up. Facing away from her, he grabbed the bottom of his shirt and pulled it off over his head.

Claire put a hand over her mouth as she gasped when she saw his scars covering his back. Her eyes were filled with horror. She was left speechless. "D- Desmond..."

"When Hershel and I visited our biological father, I remembered what happened to me. I can remember in great detail how this happened... and other gruesome things I wish I could forget," Desmond shook his head, then put his shirt back on. He sat back down between Layton and Claire. "Hershel is relentlessly demanding that I tell him all that I remembered. He thinks he will be able to track down Targent with the information, but I've already told him it won't lead him to them," Desmond bent forward, resting his elbows on his knees. He brought his hands up to his head once again, showing his great distress.

Claire gave her husband a disappointed glare. "Hershel, why would you do such a thing like that?"

Hershel desperately looked back at her. "I cannot bear the thought of losing you again. I just thought that if Desmond and I put our minds together with his memories, then perhaps—"

"Hershel, you're not going to lose me again. Can't you see how terribly this torments Desmond?" Claire's eyes saddened as she gently put a hand on Desmond's back, his head still hanging in misery.

Hershel looked at his brother and instantly felt guilt for pushing him to the limit. He heard the pain in Desmond's laboured breathing and also saw his suffering as his back heaved from each of his heavy breaths. Claire moved her fingers against his back in attempt to calm him.

"Desmond... I'm sorry," The remorse in Hershel's voice was evident. "I've been selfish."

Pushing his hair away from his face with both hands, Desmond sat up straighter. "Perhaps I should just tell you..."

"No, Desmond. You don't need to," Claire consoled, still fighting on Desmond's side.

Hershel sighed. "Claire, just let him—"

"He's already said the information is irrelevant," Claire interrupted him. "Leave him alon—"

"S- Stop fighting, please... I'll tell you what you want to know. I hate seeing you argue with each other."

"Desmond—"

"Claire, my mind is made up. I want to tell you both now. I can't hold it all in. Perhaps you're right, Hershel. You're smart. Maybe you'll be able to come up with a clue or two. What do you want to know?"

"Just start from the beginning," Hershel said.

Desmond sighed. "All right. It is a long story... but I'll do my best."


	19. Memories Unleashed

**Hey everyone! I met a fellow Professor Layton fan since I last updated, and I just had to share that! There's nothing like freaking out with a person about your favourite fandom!**

 **ImmortalSpuffy202: But your "long rants" bring such joy to my life! :D**

 **SharonandAndy: Thanks for following and favouriting me and the story!**

 **PK: I'm so honoured that you read the whole story in one shot! :D**

 **Sylvia Pewterschmidt: Many thanks for your review! It was short yet sweet! :)**

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"Master!" Raymond shouted. "We have trouble!"

Descole hurried out of his room onto the brigde of the Bostonius. "What are you going on about?" Descole muttered, but then stopped short when he saw outside the window all the airships surrounding them. There were several other airships around the large green coloured one right in from of them. Descole knew immediately who it was.

"Targent..." He muttered under his breath. "Please tell me I'm dreaming, Raymond... they're supposed to be gone..." A sound came from the dashboard, indicating that a transmission was being received. "Blast it all!" Descole shouted, realising he wasn't dreaming. He flipped a switch, and a voice began speaking.

"Hah. We have you cornered, Descole. Surrender now, and we will hold fire."

Descole held a button down to reply to them. "What do you want from me?! I thought the lot of you were behind bars!" He nodded to Raymond, wanting him to move so he could take over the duty of controlling the ship. Raymond moved, letting Descole take the helm.

The voice chuckled menacingly. "Sadly, that is not the case for you. We will tell you what we want from you... as soon as you surrender and let us board your ship."

Descole felt his hatred for Targent returning, bubbling like molten lava inside himself. He gripped the helm tighter with one hand as he reached over to press the button down again to reply. "Who are you?"

"Need I tell you again? Your questions will be answered shortly."

Descole looked out the window. Attempting to flee would be a fatal mistake. He turned to Raymond. "Cut the engines!"

Raymond's eyes grew wide. "Master, have you lost your m—"

"We've no other choice, Raymond!"

"But her engines are getting old, she may not be able to handle—"

"Just do it, Raymond!" Descole commanded firmly. "The only way out is down. Any turn out of here is too predictable. Shutting the engines down will confuse them."

Raymond hesitantly nodded and hurried off.

As Descole turned back to the window and pressed the button, he stalled Targent a moment longer. "Hold your fire. Perhaps we can come to an agreement."

"You've only two options, Descole. What say you? Do you choose surrender... or death?"

Descole held the button down once again. He sighed loudly, a smirk on his face. "I suppose you've left me no choice, gentlemen."

"So you surrender, then?"

As he heard the engine shutting down, he pressed the button a final time. "No."

Before they could answer, the transmission went fuzzy, and the airship lost power. The lights went out on the dashboard and above.

Soon, the other airships got in position to open fire. Before they could shoot, the Bostonius began descending suddenly. The manner in which it fell confused the aim of the surrounding airships.

"Turn her back on, Raymond!" Descole screamed.

"It's not working!" Raymond's strained voice was barely heard from the engine room.

Descole's stomach dropped at those words. It wasn't likely they could escape Targent by gliding alone. With weak knees, Descole ran to the engine room as the Bostonius shook.

Upon entering the room that was lit with red emergency lights, he saw Raymond, who was clearly shaken. He was still attempting to pull the lever down, but to no avail.

"It's of no use, Master!"

"We need to get the ship back on, or our descent will be too predictable. Targent will open fire eventual—"

A deafening bang suddenly shook the ship violently. Raymond was still holding on to the lever, but Descole was thrown sideways into a nearby control panel. He felt a cracking in his side, causing him to cry out as the edge slammed further into his ribs. Pushing himself away, he stumbled onto his knees.

"Curses!" Descole exclaimed, clutching his side in his hands. The ship felt as if it was falling even faster now. The adrenaline pumping through this body helped him to stand back up and swiftly flip a few switches before hurrying over to Raymond to held him flip the main lever. They both groaned as they pulled it down, causing the engines to sputter. After awhile, the engines were sounding more smoothly, and Raymond and Descole both returned to the bridge of the ship.

As Descole ran back to the helm, he saw the ground below them approaching rapidly. He began pulling with all his might to steer the ship at a less threatening angle, but the Bostonius was not complying. An alarm went off.

"Something vital has been hit! We're going to crash! Brace yourself, Raymond!"

"Master, what about you?! Are you not injured?"

Descole continued tugging at the wheel. "I'll— Ngh— be fine!"

"Master, I insist that you let me take over!"

"Shut up! You're too old! I can take more than you can! Brace yourself now, that's an order!"

Raymond put a hand on his tense shoulder. "But protecting you comes before my duty of obeying your orders, Laddie."

Descole's head turned quickly to face Raymond. Breathing heavily, Descole looked into Raymond's caring eyes. "I cannot let you do that. You've spent your entire life keeping me safe. Now let me do the same for you!"

The trees below were only seconds away now, with no flat place to land safely.

"Hold on to something!" Descole commanded.

Raymond grabbed the wheel of the ship, determined to help his master.

Upon impact, the whole ship quaked, throwing Descole and Raymond to the ground in opposite directions. Descole gasped as he struck the floor, the pain from his injured ribs incapacitating him. Instinctively, his hands covered his ears and he shut his eyes as a terrible screeching, grinding sound echoed through the airship as it slowed down. The vibrating, rumbling of the ship went through Descole's body, making it impossible for him to breath. As he fought for breath, he was motionless as the Bostonius finally halted to a stop.

Shocked at what had just happened, Descole's breathing was rapid and shallow as he lay on the floor. He was unable to take a deep breath because of the pain in his side. A little at a time, he was able to catch his breath. Propping himself up on his elbows carefully, he looked around the damaged Bostonius. There was no way the Bostonius could be repaired this time. The sadness that his beloved airship was destroyed was replaced quickly once he saw Raymond. Still dazed, it took Descole a moment before he realised Raymond wasn't moving.

"Raymond!" Descole forgot about his pain and all else as he stumbled over to his butler. Holding his limp body in his arms, Descole shook him. "Raymond, don't do this to me! Wake up!"

Raymond did not reply, still as lifeless as before.

"Raymond!" Descole repeated, waiting for an answer.

Raymond's closed eyes began to flicker. Groaning in pain as he awoke, he looked up at his master.

Descole sighed in partial relief. "Raymond, are you all right? You had me so worried."

"Master..." Raymond coughed. "Go... without me. Targent will be here soon."

"No! Never!" Descole refused. "I'd rather die at the hands of Targent!"

"Laddie... please... just go..." Raymond muttered weakly.

"Stop talking like this, Raymond, you're coming with me," Descole began to pick up Raymond; but before he had even started lifting him, his side began aching immensely again.

"Agh!" Descole clasped his hands over his side, gasping for breath. "Just... give me a moment."

"You're injured... you cannot support yourself and me. You need to go!"

"No..." Descole breathed. "We have no choice but to surrender..."

"We don't know what they want..." Raymond trailed off. "You know how dangerous they are. You need to leave."

"My answer has not changed since last time! I won't leave you!" Descole established as there was a bang at the door, and then another louder one. Descole hung his head. "It's too late... but I have a plan. Act dead."

Descole laid down motionless, and Raymond closed his eyes as the door finally gave way. They both heard several different pairs of footsteps approaching them.

"Looks like the crash landing was a bit hard on them," The first gruff voice laughed.

"They're not dead, are they?!" A voice from farther away stormed angrily as he walked closer to investigate the scene. "We need the masked one alive, or we'll never unlock the final secret of the Azran!"

Descole tried to keep his breathing steady as he felt the presence of a human drawing closer to him. He felt his feather scarf being removed before two cold fingers were placed against his neck.

"He still has a strong, rapid pulse from the crash. I'm sure he'll stay alive long enough for what we need him for," The first voice replied.

"Good. He's going to wish he were dead after we're done with him."

Descole suppressed the shiver that almost escaped him. Targent was always uttering such threats, but something about the man's tone made him feel more uneasy than normal. The threat didn't sound empty: he sounded dead serious.

"Let's take them back to the hideout. Since they're already unconcious, that makes it easier for us. Easier for us to get straight to the suffering once we arrive..."

Descole very well knew he couldn't take all the guards aboard the ship, but he couldn't take the suspense anymore. He couldn't just lie around and let them take him. Springing up quickly, he threw a punch at the first unsuspecting agent, then kicked the next. Before he could make another move, the leader of the men pulled out a gun and aimed it straight at Descole's head.

"Don't move," The man threatened firmly as his other two henchmen were recovering from Descole's attacks.

Descole chuckled unconcernedly. The new leader was just who he suspected. "Swift, you fool. I know you won't kill me. You've already said you need me for something."

Swift chuckled back. "You're right. However, we need you to kill you. Now that may sound confusing to you at the present time, but don't worry. We shall make sure that it is slow and painful," Swift slowly lowered the gun towards Descole's abdomen and cocked his gun.

"No! Don't shoot!" Descole's breathing quickened at the fear of pain. "I'll come with you... but don't think you've won so suddenly. I'll see to it that your evil deeds are put to an end."

"Sounds to me as if you cannot accept defeat," Swift put his gun back in his jacket. Walking closer to Descole, Swift noticed his hand travel up to his side. "Already injured, are we? Looks like part of my work is already finished!" Swift quickly pulled his foot up and delivered a fast kick to his injured side.

Descole shouted in pain as he stumbled to the ground, unable to draw a breath because of his agony. Swift laughed evilly as Descole's vision started leaving him. Still struggling for breath, Descole knew it was too late. Because of the immense pain, his consciousness was leaving him, and there was nothing he could do to stop it. It felt as if a deep, cold, lonely darkness was overtaking him...

* * *

 **Sorry not sorry for the cliffhanger. Also I apologise for knowing nothing about airship crashes and engines and stuff. xD**


	20. Memories Unleashed (pt 2)

**Guys, you've all waited patiently for the next chapter and I am sorry to say it's rather short. I had no spare moments whatsoever the past two weeks but I hope to be updating faster now!**

 **PK (guest): Thanks so much for your review! :D**

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"After I had fallen unconscious, Raymond and I were taken to their hideout."

Descole was startled awake by a harsh kick to his abdomen. The breath knocked out of him, Descole grimaced, struggling to take a breath as he curled in towards his stomach.

"Wake up. You've had enough time to sleep," Swift said coldly.

Once Descole was able to inhale sharply, his injured ribs shot a crippling pain through his body. Crying out, Descole shut his unmasked eyes tightly. "Agh! You imbecile! What do you want with me?!" Descole's tight voice was barely understandable.

"Well... I could tell you, or I could have more fun with you first."

"Stop playing these games, Swift, or I'll kill you!" Descole shouted enraged.

Swift only laughed as Descole contorted in agony. "You're in no position to be uttering such threats at me."

Descole growled in disgust.

"Such hatred, I see. Fine. I'll tell you why we have you here. After deciphering some ancient texts, we came to realise that you are part of the Azran's prophecy: the entire Bronev family is! I felt a bit jealous when I first came to understand that... but when I kept reading, it turns out you're not as lucky as I thought. The Azran want you all dead, then the entirety of their power shall be unleashed!"

Although confused, Descole was too pained to question Swift's rubbish. "I knew I hated that accursed civilisation..." Was all Descole was able to retort back.

"So Swift was saying the Azran require a sacrifice?" Hershel questioned. "But why us?"

"The words he quoted to me from the text he supposedly deciphered were, 'the ancestry with the greatest knowledge of the Azran.'"

"Hmm..." Layton put a hand to his chin. "I suppose Bronev, yourself, and I fit that description... but how can we be sure his research is correct?"

"We can't. I still don't quite understand it all. Swift was convinced he had decoded the text correctly," Desmond shrugged.

"Do you know where he found his information?" Hershel inquired.

"If I did, I wouldn't be sitting here mourning. I would be out there finding the answer to all of our problems..."

"Nonetheless, it makes no sense why the Azran would want us dead. I know how powerful the Azran are, and I don't doubt their abilities to predict the future, but... if they wanted us dead, they wouldn't have brought us back to life last year..."

"Hershel, what on earth are you talking about?" Claire stopped him.

Hershel explained how they had died and came back to life when the Azran legacy was awoken.

Claire's confusion grew as she confoundedly said, "I suppose after missing ten years time, a lot of strange things are bound to happen..."

"The Azran truly have power beyond belief," Desmond stated. "Why they would require a human sacrifice is beyond my understanding, but that is what needs be done, according to Targent. After he had told me all of that, that's when he commanded his men to start the torture..." Desmond hung his head, trying to hold back his tears at the excruciating memories. "I cannot describe the agony I was put through. I was beaten, kicked, punched... and then whipped," Desmond choked, unable to speak for a moment as images from the past flashed through his mind. He looked down at the floor. "Even something as simple as breathing had never been so painful and difficult, especially considering I already had my ribs broken prior... I just wish I could forget it all..."

Layton, having a quick mind, wasn't one to be left speechless for long; but this time he truly did not know how to respond to all he had just heard. Trying to steady his breathing, Desmond inhaled deeply.

"I tell you all of this as if it happened quickly and was over with, but it wasn't. Whilst everything was happening rather fast, it felt like an eternity until it was all over... I just wanted to die..." Desmond rested his head in his hands.

Claire and Hershel both looked at each other, sympathy filling their eyes for the broken man before them. Hershel placed a hand on Desmond's back, and Claire also placed her hand on top of Hershel's.

Desmond tensed. "P- Please... don't touch me," He stood up as they removed their hands. He walked a few steps away from them. "I know you only want to comfort me, but... I'm sure you can fathom why I cannot stand being touched at this moment..."

A tear rolled down Claire's compassionate face. "Desmond... you needn't continue telling us, this clearly pains you terribly to talk about it."

"Claire, I need to!" Desmond's voice shook, still facing away from them. He ran his hands through his hair and stopped partway. "We need to stop Targent..." Desmond stood up a little straighter, remembering his purpose of why he was telling them his story. "I'm hoping Hershel can glean some sort of information from this. I must go on, for you both, and for Flora."


	21. Memories Unleashed (pt 3)

**ImmortalSpuffy202: Thanks for both of your reviews! Also I've updated "Who Am I?" If you're still interested in reading that! :)**

 **Passing By (Guest): Thank you so much for your pleasant review! I'm glad you like the story!**

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"When they had finished relentlessly torturing me physically... that's when they moved on to an even more excruciating sort of pain."

* * *

"The thought just occurred to me..." Swift put a hand to his chin. "Where on earth could your friend be? You know... that man that was with you when your airship plummeted into the earth?"

Descole was too weak to answer him. He lay on the cold ground on his right side. He no longer could move; this being the only position he could lay in without crying out in agony since his back had been whipped and his ribs had been broken on his left side. He was curled in towards his abdomen, incapacitated from the pain. Blood dripped from the lacerations covering his stinging back. Barely able to breathe, the thought of where Raymond was happened to be the least of his worries. Then, he realised what Swift was planning. A terrible feeling of dread built up in Descole's chest. Closing his eyes tightly, he tried to stifle the groans that escaped him. "P- Please... d-don't... hurt him... I'll do anything... anything you want."

"Isn't that a shame? There are so many things I could have you tell me about the Azran... and yet they only want you dead. Then, all of their knowledge shall be unleashed! But the sacrifice must be gruesome and emotional."

"Which means Raymond needn't... be involved... He has nothing to do with this," Descole muttered.

Swift laughed lowly. "How stupid can you be? I've noticed that this man is more than a mere butler to you. I'm sure you know what my plan is. Stop denying the truth!"

"Please!" Descole cried desperately. "Let me read the Azran's words for myself!"

"Are you implying that I deciphered the words wrong?" Swift moved a step closer to Descole, causing him to tense in fear of being hurt further. Descole moaned in anxiety as he closed his eyes tightly, afraid of Swift kicking him again.

"Pitiful. I'm not going to hurt you. Not physically anyway..." Swift chuckled softly. Soon, the door opened. Two guards entered dragging Raymond in behind them. Dropping him to the floor harshly, Raymond groaned from the impact.

"Raymond!" Descole uttered weakly, his frail voice only a whisper as he looked at Raymond helplessly.

Raymond slowly propped himself up, but once he saw the terrible state his master was in, he quickly forgot his own pain and rushed over to his side. "Laddie! What have they done to you?!" Raymond reached out to put his hand on his convulsing shoulder, but Descole stopped him.

"Don't come near me, Raymond, it's a trap! They're going to kill you!" Descole shouted deliriously, his breathing shallow and unsteady.

Raymond, still shaken at seeing Descole beaten so severely, tried to stay calm. Descole nearly choked each time he tried to inhale. "Take a deep breath, Laddie. I'm right here with you. We can get this sorted out. You'll be all right."

"That's where you're wrong, old man. He won't be 'all right', and neither will you," Swift sneered.

"What do you mean? What does Targent want?" Raymond questioned.

Swift shook his head. "Quite unfortunately, I do not have the time to explain everything to you," Swift nodded to the henchmen that were behind Raymond.

"No! Raymond, leave!" Descole shouted, his body contorting in agony as the guards neared Raymond.

As they took ahold of Raymond once again, Descole could do nothing but watch powerlessly, his body in too much pain to move properly.

"It's time for the first of many sacrifices that must be made. Kill him."

"NOOOO!" Descole screamed; his red, perspiring face contorting. Gathering all his strength, he crawled on his side in agony towards Raymond and the two men holding him back. The man on his right pulled out a gun and pressed it against the centre of Raymond's back.

As soon Raymond felt the hard metal against him, his eyes widened and his heart began pounding violently.

BANG!

A gunshot echoed off through the room. The deafening sound caused Descole to stop crawling and stare in horror as Raymond tensed in the two men's grasp. After the noise had reverberated away, Raymond began to sway.

From his view on the ground, Descole could see the pain in Raymond's eyes as he slowly crumpled to the floor.

Descole held completely still, eyes wide and fearful, staring at Raymond's lifeless form on the ground. Swallowing hard, Descole wished this was only a nightmare he needed to awake from. Incapable of vocalising his anguish, tears finally overflowed Descole's eyes. With the very last of his strength, he cried out, tearfully weeping as he dragged himself on his side over to Raymond.

Descole rolled Raymond onto his back, causing him to gasp in pain. "R- Raymond... I- I'm s- so... sorry..." Descole mourned, another pain shooting through his chest at the sight of the red spot growing on Raymond's shirt.

"L- Laddie..." Raymond coughed. "Please... listen to me."

Descole closed his eyes, his tears falling.

"Desmond... this is not your fault. I know you want to blame yourself, but that's not the answer."

Descole still could not look at him, or acknowledge his words.

"Laddie... Please, look at me," Raymond feebly spoke.

Descole sadly opened his tearful eyes.

"I want you to know... how proud I am of all you've accomplished in your life, despite the dark times. I've always thought of you... as my son."

Swallowing, Descole drew in a deep breath and took Raymond's hand in his. "A- And I thought of you as my father..." Descole closed his eyes again, the aching in his chest growing unbearably.

"Farewell, my son... keep... making me proud," Raymond smiled weakly before his eyes fell shut. His entire body went limp as his final breath escaped him.

"Raymond?! RAYMOND!" Descole screamed, falling over his lifeless form and wept, now being in physical and emotional torment beyond his own imagination.

* * *

"A- After they had killed him, I eventually fell unconscious because of the pain and inability to breathe. Every single part of me, inside and outside... every nerve in my body was in such excruciating agony..." Desmond quivered and hung his head as he finished his story. "The next thing I remember is random flashes from escaping, and then awaking in that alley you found me in. The only thing I could remember then was what happened to Raymond..." Desmond sighed shakily, tears falling from his eyes.

"But didn't you say before you remembered escaping rather clearly, and that you knew where their hideout was?" Hershel questioned.

Desmond took his glasses off and pinched the bridge of his nose. "I thought I did, but now I'm not sure... The only thing I'm absolutely sure about is what I've just told you... and that Raymond is dead."

Hershel looked over at Claire again, not knowing what to say to comfort his brother. Claire's eyes were filled with compassion and tears at Desmond's story. She looked back at her husband, not knowing what to do either.

Hershel inhaled deeply. "Thank you for telling us, Desmond... I know that was very hard for you."

Desmond stayed quiet, still hanging his head in misery.

"I know also that you're in much pain right now. Please, Desmond, isn't there anything we can do for you?"

Silently lifting his head, Desmond glanced at his brother through his tears. "I suppose... I suppose physical comfort can be allowed... just this once," Desmond smirked slightly. Layton smirked back as he pulled his brother into an embrace. As Desmond let his tears free, Claire also joined the embrace from behind. Minutes passed, Desmond resting safely in their arms as he cried.

Layton thought about all Desmond had told him, thinking, could anything Desmond said possibly lead them to Targent? His eyes lit up. He waited until Desmond pulled away from him before speaking.

"Desmond... I know how we can find Targent."


	22. The Professor's Deductions

**ImmortalSpuffy202: Thank you so much for your review, it meant a lot to me that you thought I did that chapter justice. Many thanks for your ongoing encouragement :D**

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"What on earth are you talking about, Layton?" Desmond looked at his brother incredulously.

"After hearing your story, I've been able to work it out," Layton put his hand to his chin and stood up off of Desmond's bed.

"Well, please enlighten us, Dearest," Claire was just as confused as Desmond.

"They were discreet, but there was one thing they failed to cover up," Layton paced over to the other side of the room, his hand still in thinking position. "Your missing memories, Desmond. Do you think those just happen to be missing, to Targent's benefit?"

Desmond sat up straighter, knowing something big was about to be unraveled. "I suppose you're right. That is rather strange, but for what purpose would they erase my memories?"

"I believe it's mainly for the purpose of hiding how you were brought out of their hideout," Hershel clarified.

"So you're saying I didn't escape? I don't understand. I have vague memories of escaping, I thought anyway..."

"Not only were certain memories suppressed, but I believe those random glimpses you think you're remembering aren't real."

Desmond put a hand to his head. "If they can really accomplish all of that, it's no wonder my mind feels so confused..."

"Now the question is, who would be the person that was able to get you free from Targent without their knowing; and also place you somewhere where they knew I would find you?"

"Let me guess, Hershel. You've already worked out who that is," Desmond guessed.

"Indeed, I have," Hershel finally turned around, facing Claire and Desmond. "I believe it is time to pay a visit to an old friend."

Desmond and Hershel went out to visit his friend. Reaching a home in one of the quieter parts of London, Hershel stepped up the stairs, walked forward and knocked on the door.

"One moment!" A familiar voice said. Hurried footsteps could be heard approaching the door. After the door had clicked unlocked, the door slowly opened, revealing a woman wearing yellow. Her curly, dark brown hair framed her acorn shaped face just like it always had. Her skin was light and her eyes were as dark as midnight.

"Professor Layton, Professor Sycamore... I had a feeling you two would be coming soon."

Layton pinched the brim of his hat. "It's been quite a long time, Emmy."


	23. An Old Friend

"Professor... I believe I know why you're here. It doesn't surprise me that you've figured this out," Emmy stepped aside, welcoming them into her home.

The main living quarters were small, but mostly tidy. Emmy's furniture was simple, with a modern flair to it. They made their way over to the black leather sofa and chair to be seated. In the middle of the seats was a little tea table that was piled with newspapers, magazines, and other informative articles. After they had sat down, Emmy put on a kettle in the kitchen and then joined then.

"So, Professor... what have you found out so far?" Emmy asked sitting up straight, not seeming relaxed in her manner.

"I believe you must know all about what is happening in my family's life, currently. About how Targent wants to end the Bronev bloodline," Layton began.

"Yes... And your purpose in coming here?"

"To get more answers from you, the one who freed Desmond from Targent's hands," Hershel replied simply.

Emmy sighed. "So you do know. There's no hiding anything from you, Professor. I suppose you've figured out why I did so, as well," She mentioned, almost not serious.

Hershel nodded. "Indeed, I have. My theory is ever since Bronev has been in prison, and since you've started working as a photographer for The London Times, Bronev wanted you to gather information on me and Desmond. Bronev knew it was easy for you to get information. Knowing that, he asked you to keep an eye on me and Desmond, did he not?"

Emmy's eyes were filled with shock. "Wow. I know I shouldn't be surprised... but you never cease to amaze me with how much you can figure out with such little to go on."

Thinking about what Hershel had said prior about Bronev. Desmond's eyes filled with confusion. "Why... Why would Bronev want you to spy on us, Emmy?"

Emmy gave Desmond a look, almost disgusted. "Do you really not know? He is your father, after all. Believe it or not, he does care about you. As I was growing up in his care, he only spoke about you both at least once every day," Emmy then added a laugh. "I know all of your brotherly stories."

Desmond still didn't smile. He sighed angrily and looked at the floor. "Really? Then why did he murder my family?" He muttered in a whisper.

Emmy's eyes saddened. "Desmond... he wasn't himself. He was so obsessed with the Azran he changed into an entirely different person. Hate and anger drove him to that point. I'm sure you can understand that."

"No!" Desmond stood up, turning away from them. He paced over to a window, looking out into the busy streets of London. "I don't understand. I cannot comprehend why he wanted to kill the two most precious women in the world. My wife and daughter..."

"He didn't want to," Emmy tried to tell him. "You say that as if he solely set out to kill them, but he didn't. The thought of killing them hadn't even crossed his mind until the deed was already done. I wish I could explain to you how deeply he regretted it. Uncle Leon couldn't sleep. He couldn't eat. He even spoke of putting a stop to his research altogether."

Desmond still stared out the window. "I cannot believe that."

"That's your own choice. But it is true," Emmy said seriously. "What broke my heart the most about seeing him in such despair was when he said, 'If I truly love my son, then how could I have done this to him?'" Emmy swallowed. "I didn't even know how to comfort him most of the time... Uncle Leon couldn't stand to see how he had broke you. He lamented for days on end. I know you don't want to forgive him... but I thought you should know the truth. He still feels guilt to this day."

Desmond stared deeply into the dark clouds that filled the London sky. Resting his arm over his head on the window, he drew in a deep breath and let it out. Everything that Emmy said was exactly what Bronev had said. It was the truth... but he still could not accept it. "How he feels does not change how I feel. His feelings do not change what he's already done. He took away all that mattered to me."

"Ahem," Layton cleared his throat. "Sorry to interrupt, but we need to stay focused."

Sycamore took his arm off the window. Just then, the kettle whistled throughout the room.

"Perhaps some tea will help us relax..." Emmy stood swiftly to prepare the tea.

Desmond walked back over to his brother's side and sat next to him. "I'm sorry..." He hung his head, swallowing. "I'll try to stay in the present... and avoid becoming Descole..."

Hershel felt empathy for his brother who was clearly still hurting immensely. "It's alright. I'm here, and I'll help you however I can," Layton placed his hand on the back of his shoulder.

"I know... that in itself is comforting to know," Desmond sat up straighter as Emmy brought two cups of tea over. She fetched her own cup before sitting down and resuming conversation with them.

"Emmy, so can you tell me about when Bronev learnt about Desmond's capture?" Layton asked before taking a sip of tea.

"Well..." Emmy ran her finger around the brim of her teacup, thinking of where to start. "I had been keeping an eye on where both of you were, which was much easier with Professor Layton, seeing as I knew where you lived and worked. However, Professor Sycamore involved a bit more research. When the reporters had caught word of an orange airship crashing, I immediately investigated. That was actually the first time I had an idea about where you were, Professor Sycamore. I went with the reporters to take photos of the scene, but mainly to gather information about your whereabouts. I was successful, finding proof that Targent had indeed taken you captive. I contacted Uncle Leon, letting him know I finally located you in Targent's hands. He was hasty, to say the least, in sending me back to rescue you."

"But when Hershel and I visited him, he didn't tell us any of this. He also seemed to know nothing about what was going on," Desmond explained.

"That's because he didn't want you to know he was watching you. He knew you wouldn't believe him, anyway."

"Now I'm curious," Desmond put a hand to his chin. "How exactly did you get me out of their hideout?"

"I had my ways. Knowing martial arts and Targent's methods definitely helped. And you were either unconscious or unaware the whole time, so it wasn't too hard."

Desmond raised an eyebrow. "Now, Miss Altava, I know you're remarkably strong, but—"

Emmy giggled. "Alright. Perhaps I had some help from a friend. But you needn't concern yourself with their identity. That's a story for another time... Anyway, Uncle Leon told me even if you were hurt, not to take you to a hospital. To be honest, once I found you, I almost did take you to the hospital regardless, seeing the desperate, urgent state you were in, but he didn't want Targent to be able to find you again. Also, he didn't want me or himself to get involved further. He said just to bring you close enough to your brother so that he would find you. His plan worked, apparently."

"Indeed..." Desmond replied, deep in thought about how Bronev really went through all this trouble for their sakes. It was irrefutable.

"Another question, Emmy... Do you know where Targent is now?" Layton questioned.

Emmy sighed. "They're obviously not at that hideout anymore... I didn't really have the time to track them further, seeing as my main priority was getting Desmond to safety."

"I see..." Layton put a hand to his chin. "Do you know what their goal is?"

"I wish I could help you, Professor, I really do... but I don't have anything to go on. You know all that I do."

Layton sighed. "There has to be an answer about Targent's whereabouts somewhere... We cannot let them catch us off guard. We must find them first."

"They must know where you are. Why are they waiting to strike?" Emmy pondered.

"Probably just to make us suffer," Desmond spat.

"It's extremely unsettling... For once I feel as if I have nothing to go on..." The professor hung his head.

Emmy and Desmond could not believe the words they had just heard come from Layton's mouth. The room fell silent. After a bit, Emmy sat up straighter, determined.

"So are we just going to sit here and mourn about that? We need to stop them!" Emmy declared.

"But, Emmy, we don't have—"

"Where's the professor I know? He wouldn't let a minor setback, such as not having a lead stop him from investigating the matter. What's holding you back?"

"You know I have a family now, Emmy. I cannot just leave them to go investigate for who knows how long."

Emmy looked down, realising she couldn't win this fight. "Right... I received your wedding invitation, I was sorry to miss it... I suppose I can't argue with you there. Your family needs you. Don't worry about it, Professor. I'll get a lead for your family."

Desmond wasn't sure about Emmy getting involved. "Are you sure you'll be alright? If Targent finds you meddling with their plans—"

"I know, but I can handle them, really," Emmy persuaded.

"But what if you aren't able to find a lead before Targent strikes?" Desmond worried.

"I'll do the best I can. I don't think that we have any other choice."

"I think that is our best option... Let us know what you discover, Emmy." Layton finished the last bit of his tea, then stood up. "It was nice visiting with you, Emmy."

Desmond and Emmy also stood up, following him over to the door.

"Are you sure you can't stay longer?" Emmy asked hopefully.

"I apologise for the quick visit, but we really do need to be getting home," Hershel admitted. "Perhaps you should come pay us a visit sometime soon. Claire and Flora would love to meet you."

"Right then. I won't keep you any longer. I'll let you know straightaway when I hear anything about Targent."

Quickly, Layton hurried down the front stairs and towards his car. Desmond sensed unease within Hershel.

"What's going on with you?" Desmond asked, walking quickly to keep up with him.

"Get in, then I'll explain once we're on our way home," Hershel said rushed.

Confused and a bit worried, Desmond did as he said. Jumping into the car and pulling the door shut, Desmond looked at Layton. Layton turned the key, starting up the car as he spoke. "I fear Targent may have been waiting to find Flora and Claire left alone. I only hope that I'm wrong," He said as they sped towards home.


	24. A Secret

**ImmortalSpuffy202: Glad you liked the plot twist and sorry not sorry for that cliffhanger! ;) Thanks for both of your review!**

 **boh.l: I'm glad you've been reading this since the summer! Thank you so much for your encouraging words!**

* * *

"Flora?! Claire?!" Hershel burst into his home.

Noticing a light on in the kitchen, he raced over. Seeing them both cooking dinner happily, he sighed in relief, walking over to Claire and embracing her tightly. Desmond soon followed, entering the room, perplexed as to why Hershel was acting half mad.

"I'm so glad you're alright..." Hershel said relieved.

Claire confusedly put her flour covered hands on Hershel's shoulders and pushed him back to see his worried face. "Of course I'm alright. What's going on? Are you okay?"

Flora stopped working and stepped towards the professor.

Layton put a hand on Flora's shoulder. "I feared Targent had come... I thought they were going to take you both..."

"What would make you think that? It's not like you to jump to rash conclusions like this," Claire led her husband over to a chair at the table and made him sit down, then she looked up at Desmond. "What on earth happened to my husband while you two were out?"

"He's been like this since we left Emmy's home."

"Hershel, tell me what is bothering you. You have me worried sick." Claire put her hand on his shoulder.

"I don't know..." Hershel breathed out. "I only... I'm just afraid."

"Tell me about it," Claire counselled.

Hershel looked around at the concerned faces of his family in the room. Being the strong one for the family the past month was a challenge to keep his shield up for that long. He knew it was time to let it down.

"Alright..." Hershel closed his eyes in distress. "This last month has been difficult for us all, knowing Targent is out there waiting to catch us off guard. I tried not to worry too much, but the longer this goes on, the worse my apprehension becomes. I can't help but think about what could happen, and it frightens me to no end. I feel as if I cannot protect you both, and at any moment, you could be taken from me. I don't know what to do..." Layton hung his head. Claire and Desmond looked at each other, not knowing what to say. Flora's eyes were sad, never having seen the professor so burdened before.

"Hershel..." Desmond began, staying behind Hershel's chair. "I know what it's like to be worried about Targent hurting your family. Knowing what they're capable of is enough to scare anyone. It's okay to be worried. That means you love your family. What's not alright it to let Targent win by obsessing over what you cannot control. We'll take all the precautions we can, but we need to stay rational."

Hershel thought about his words. "You're right. I'm sorry to have worried you all."

Claire squeezed her husband's shoulder. "We're all going to get through this together as a family. Tomorrow is a new day. Go teach your students and don't worry about us. We'll be fine. I know Desmond is familiar with Targent, so he will know if anything seems amiss around here."

"I know. As long as we're together as a family and keep being honest with each other, nothing can take us apart," Hershel stood up and embraced Claire and Flora. Desmond stood behind them, seeing something strange in Claire's eyes. He wasn't sure if it was unease or worry, but it definitely looked like she was hiding something. Desmond wasn't sure what it was, but he was going to find out.


	25. Claire's Secret

**I feel like every chapter I apologise for the long wait, but you know how life is... So at last here's the next bit!**

 **Thanks to ImmortalSpuffy202, boh.l, and PK for reading and your encouraging and motivating reviews, you guys are the best!**

* * *

Early the next morning, Hershel left for the university and Flora went off to school. Claire had some research to catch up on at home, and Desmond wasn't quite sure what he was going to do with his day yet.

Waking up, Desmond opened his heavy eyes and looked over at the clock hanging from the wall. Squinting, he tried to make out what time it was. Reaching for the nightstand behind him, he felt around until his fingers found his glasses. Bringing them to his face, the clock was made clear. Quarter past eight, it read. He didn't normally sleep until this hour, but he must have slept better since he had told Hershel and Claire about his capture. Rising up, Desmond stretched and yawned, thinking about what he could accomplish today. After a moment of thought, he remembered that today was an important day. It was Hershel's birthday. No one had spoken of it in the days leading up to this day, but Desmond would never forget. Every year on Hershel's birthday, Desmond always thought of his brother a little more than he did on a normal day. This would be the first birthday Desmond would spend with him since his brother had turned six.

After getting ready, he headed downstairs where he found Claire sitting on the sofa, working on some research from the lab. She had an open book on her lap and papers covering the tea table in front of her. Remembering the night before, how Claire seemed to be hiding something, he thought of a way to start a conversation without drawing too much suspicion.

"Good morning, Claire."

"Good morning, Desmond," Claire looked up from her book and smiled.

"Have you had breakfast yet? I'd be happy to make you something," Desmond suggested, secretly hoping she would decline since his knowledge of cooking was miniscule. Raymond had always done all the cooking for him his entire life, and his wife did a bit as well.

"Thank you for the kind offer, but I'm not that hungry at the moment."

"How about a cup of tea?" Desmond recommended, knowing a British woman couldn't deny that. He had to do some sort of kind act for her before engaging in a enquiry.

"I'm really fine, Desmond. I don't mean to be rude, but I really do need to stay focused on my research."

Something was definitely not right. She rejected tea. Desmond headed into the kitchen to put on a kettle for himself while contriving a plan on how to get Claire to talk. He knew asking if she was alright wasn't a good tactic. She would simply brush the matter aside. Perhaps he could start a simple conversation about how he was reminded of his family and somehow get into family needing to trust each other with everything... He had to catch her off guard.

After his tea was ready, he took it out to the living room, trying to think of a way to begin. Sitting down, he looked up at Claire who looked deep in her book. He half wondered if she was just trying to keep him from talking to her.

"Sorry to disturb you again, Claire, but I'd rather like to know what you're researching. I did quite a bit of biology and science study in university," Desmond started.

Claire looked up. "After my promotion, the lab has been wanting me to focus more on doing my own personal research rather than being a lab assistant. Right now I'm studying certain chemical reactions currently and the importance of them."

"Fascinating," Desmond mused, taking a sip of hot tea. "My wife had a quick mind for science. I'm sure you two would have gotten along well. I wish you could have met her," Desmond sighed, but actually wasn't feeling as sad as he appeared. He was only bringing up this sensitive topic to begin to soften Claire towards telling him her secret, and so that she would continue talking to him.

"I'm sure she was an amazing woman," Claire said thoughtfully, not seeming as rushed anymore.

"Indeed... I think about her and my daughter every day," Desmond started to feel guilty, using the precious memory of his beloved family to get information from Claire, but he had to continue. It was Claire's fault for hiding something. "Some days I think about how I could have prevented their deaths... If I had told them Targent was out there looking for us, maybe we could have been prepared for when they abducted us... My wife and daughter had no idea what was going on..." Desmond said remorsefully. "Maybe if I hadn't hidden secrets from them, perhaps they would still be with me today. I should have been honest with them, instead of feeling like all the pressure of protecting them was on me," Desmond paused a moment to look into Claire's eyes to see if she was processing, and it worked. Claire looked as if she were thinking about his words deeply. He continued. "But nevermind my sniveling... I suppose I should let you get back to studying." Desmond gave Claire a moment longer to think about his words.

Claire sat for a moment longer looking uncomfortable. She silently looked back down at her book, saying nothing.

"Claire, are you alright? You look rather pale," Desmond pushed. There was no way out for her now.

Claire didn't answer right away. She drew in a deep breath. "Yes. I only... I'm sorry you had to endure that."

Desmond was tired of being indirect. "Nevermind that. You know what I'm on about... Don't pretend I haven't noticed your strange behaviour. I cannot believe Hershel hasn't noticed yet. He must be too blind by his love for you to see. You're hiding something from him... But the question is, what is it?" He asked directly, dead sick of going in circles.

Claire drew in a deep breath. "Desmond... I could come up with a story to get you to believe, but instead I'm going to be honest. I can't tell you, and I cannot tell Hershel either. I trust you to trust me in this. I just cannot tell you."

Desmond couldn't believe this. Claire knew hiding things would tear the family apart, and yet she was still hiding something intentionally. "Claire—"

"I know you think this is dangerous, to hide something from our family, but you have to trust me. I know what I'm doing. It's to protect you, Flora, and Hershel," Claire explained.

"Protect us from what? The truth?!" Desmond stood up, becoming infuriated at what he couldn't know.

"It's not like that!" Claire tried to justify.

Desmond breathing was unsteady as he approached Claire. His eyes were filled with fury.

"Desmond!" Claire stood up quickly, backing away from him. "Don't let Descole do this to you!"

"Have you heard nothing I've said?! Secrets will tear us all apart!" Descole raised his voice.

Desperation filled Claire's eyes. "Can we please drop this? I know it's hard, but I really need you to trust me," Claire said, gravely serious.

"No! I will not accept your silence! I must know!" Descole demanded, gripping Claire's shoulders tightly.

Claire gasped in fear, but she knew she had to stay calm to bring Desmond back. "D- Desmond! Hershel and Flora are counting on you, and I am too. We know you're still hurting immensely... but keeping secrets is not what will tear us apart. Lack of trust will do that. We cannot let this come between us. I beg of you, please trust me! I would never do anything to hurt you or Hershel or Flora. We love you. We're family," Claire finished, her voice shaking slightly.

Descole didn't respond. His face was blank. Claire couldn't quite tell if it was Descole or Desmond still before her, but she knew she had to draw Desmond back to reality fast. Wrapping her arms around him, she pulled him into a tight embrace.

Desmond's grip on Claire loosened as he realised Descole had come back again. His breaths were wavering and unsteady as he hugged Claire back. "I'm so sorry, Claire... Thank you for staying calm and bringing me back."

"It was nothing..." Claire hugged him a moment longer, feeling his uneven breaths. Pulling away, she looked at Desmond, who was clearly still unsettled and disturbed from Claire's keeping secrets. "I'm sorry I can't tell you. Believe me, I want to, but it has to be this way."

Desmond nodded, but said nothing. Claire sensed Desmond was still upset inside.

"Today is Hershel's birthday. We cannot let this come between us," Claire said.

"I understand..." Desmond agreed. "Is there anything I can help you with before he gets home?"

"I don't know... I was just going to make his favourite biscuits and I also have a gift for him. I don't know what else we could do to make this day special for him."

Whilst they were thinking, there were three quick raps on the door.

"I'll get it." Desmond turned towards the door, but Claire put her hand on his shoulder.

"You probably won't even know who it is, silly," Claire teased, walking past him on her way over to the door.

"You don't know that. For all you know, maybe you don't know who it is," Desmond laughed back.

Claire looked through the small hole in the door to see who it was. She slowly turned towards Desmond and lowered her voice. "I think you're right... There's a worried looking woman out there. Do you know her?" Claire stepped aside.

As Desmond peered through, he recognised her immediately. Quickly opening the door, his stomach filled with dread. "Emmy? What's wrong? What are you doing here?"

"It's Uncle Leon," Emmy's voice quivered quietly.

"Please, come in and have a seat. Tell me what's going on," Desmond invited in a hurried manner. Emmy entered and Desmond led her over to the sofa. Claire followed them, understanding who Emmy was since Desmond and Hershel had spoke about her before.

After they had both sat down, Claire standing nearby, Emmy showed Desmond a newspaper, her hands trembling. "He— he's been stolen out of prison last night. Who else could it be besides Targent?"

Desmond felt his worry grow, not particularly for Bronev, but that Targent had begun appearing. "I'm afraid you're right..."

"We know Targent intends to kill him... He's like a father to me, and I can't bear the thought of losing him. H- He's all I have in this world," Her hurried voice and desperate eyes showed her fear. "I- I don't know what to do, Desmond."

Trying to think like Hershel would think, Sycamore tried to come up with a solution for their predicament. First, he tried to think of Targent's motive. "Perhaps they are trying to lure us to their hiding place..."

"Well, it's working..." Emmy crossed her arms nervously. "I just want to roundhouse kick them all between their smug eyes... If I knew where they were at, I probably would have gone there right away without telling you... I know, it sounds like a stupid idea, going after them without a plan, but the dread inside of me is too much... I feel so terrible that I would do anything to have him free from them." Emmy closed her eyes.

Desmond looked back at Claire, who was standing behind him. Although much of the situation had been explained to her now, she still didn't know what to say either.

"It's understandable that you're nervous, but what's important is that you keep a clear head," Desmond said like the professor would have said.

"That's easy for you to say! You don't even care if your own father dies!" Emmy blurted out.

Desmond was surprised: surprised that Emmy had said this, and also surprised that he felt guilt from her words. It was true. He didn't care.

"Emmy... I'm still nervous about Targent's appearance. We all need to keep clear minds," Desmond tried to steer the conversation away from his hatred against Bronev.

"I'd rather discuss this with the Professor, he actually cares about—"

"I want to help you, Emmy! Besides, Hershel is in no state to be giving comfort to you anyway. Did you notice the professor's strange behaviour yesterday?"

"It was sort of hard to miss... Why did he leave so quickly?" Emmy questioned.

"Speaking of Targent too often had finally brought him to the point of breaking, I suppose... He became worried that Claire and Flora had been abducted."

"That's not like the professor..." Emmy trailed off, her face filled with concerned.

"I know. It worries me. But that's why I'd rather you discuss this with me instead," Desmond explained. "If we were to tell him, he would go mad."

"You mean... Keep it secret from the professor?"

"I don't like it either, but I don't see any other way," Desmond shrugged.

Claire glared at Desmond firmly. "Desmond—"

"If you can keep a secret from him, then I can too!"

"Desmond, don't be childish! I have good reason. I know it doesn't make sense now, but you'll understand once everything is—"

"I have good reason, as well!"

"Stop fighting, please!" Emmy begged. "I haven't the slightest what you two are on about, but this is solving nothing. Let's calmly look at our options."

Desmond thought. "I suppose it's either search for their base... Or wait until they take us."

Emmy put her hands on her hips. "Seeing that they already have Uncle Leon, I think I'd rather go with the first choice."

"I would, as well," Desmond agreed.

"But how?" Claire asked, concern in her eyes. "If Targent put Desmond through so much pain, I don't want either of you getting anywhere near them."

"If Emmy and I go together, we will be fine. She knows the methods of Targent well. However, I understand your concern... especially considering what they did to me during our last encounter..." A chill ran down Desmond's back, remembering the suffering that he was still recovering from. He swallowed bravely. "but I have to go, for your sake and for Hershel and Flora."

"The only thing that will make Hershel go mad is if he hears that you went after Targent. You can't be serious about this." Claire's eyes were filled with an obstinance, not wanting Desmond in harm's way.

"I'll be back in time to celebrate Hershel's birthday," Desmond stood up, ready to go investigate.

"Desmond! I won't allow you to do this!" Claire stood in front of him, prepared to intervene if she had to.

"Enough!" Emmy couldn't handle their bickering any further. She stood up and faced Desmond. "Desmond, Claire needs you here. Leave this to me."

"But it's dangerous," Desmond warned.

"I know what I'm getting myself into. But Uncle Leon is worth that risk."

"Emmy... I don't think you should do this," Desmond stalled.

"You practically want him dead! Nevermind... Forget I came. It's better if this didn't happen." Emmy headed for the door.

"No!" Desmond grabbed her wrist as she took her first step. "It's not like that, Emmy, I'm just concerned about your safety!"

"Well, don't be. Worrying about me won't make a difference. I'm going, with or without your approval," Emmy ripped away from his grasp and strided towards the door.

"Fine— just— don't die!" Desmond shouted at her as she left.

There was a silence as Desmond stood, not knowing what to do now. "What now?" Desmond turned his head towards Claire.

After she thought a moment, Claire let out a worried sigh. "We'll have to hold off the celebrations. Let's go help her."


	26. On the Hunt

**Yes, I'm still alive! Woo! I hope you all are still interested in the story by this point... Enjoy!**

 **JoSeBach: Thanks for your reviews it was good to hear from you!**

 **ImmortalSpuffy202: I just gotta say I really admire your loyalty to this story. Thanks for always leaving a nice review!**

 **VibeQuake and BlueVassilissa: Thanks for following and favouriting and for your support!**

"Are you serious?!" Desmond was baffled as he followed Claire to the door as she put her coat on.

"Well, that's what you want to do, isn't it?" Claire questioned, slipping her first arm through the coat sleeve.

Desmond slowly took his coat off the rack. "I suppose... I don't really want any more confrontation with her, but I do want to work together to end this madness."

"Then let's go," Claire opened the door as Desmond quickly put his coat on and hurriedly followed her.

"Emmy, wait!" Claire ran down the front steps as Emmy put on her helmet and started up the engine of her scooter.

Emmy turned towards Claire, turning the key to the engine back off. Taking off her helmet, she looked confused. "What it is?"

"I know this sounds a bit rash of us to change our minds so quickly," Claire began. "but you know how desperate we all are to end Targent for good. We want to help you."

"Do either of you have any idea where to begin?" Emmy questioned, standing back off of her scooter. "Because I honestly haven't."

"Let's go to Scotland Yard," Desmond suggested. "Hershel had spoken with Grosky about Targent about a month ago, but he wasn't able to help him until he had proof. Perhaps Bronev's abduction will be enough proof for him."

"Maybe..." Emmy hoped, brushing her hair behind her shoulder and looking down. After thinking for a moment, she determinedly looked back up at the two. "Well, I can't think of anything else. Let's try it."

The trio made their way to Scotland Yard to meet with the Detective Inspector, hoping he would be available. After granted permission, with some help from Emmy, they went to Grosky's office.

"Hello, Inspector Grosky," Emmy greeted.

"That's Detective Inspector to you!" Grosky laughed.

"Right," Emmy smiled. "it's surprising to see you sitting in an office, no doubt, working hard."

"Precisely. It's a bit different than what you're used to seeing isn't it? Anyway, what brings you three here?"

"I know Professor Layton came here about a month ago, and he told you Targent is on the loose. He told us you would help us if we had proof Targent is out there."

"That's true," Grosky agreed.

"How's this for evidence?" Emmy gestured back to Claire, and Claire took a step forward, sliding the newspaper onto his desk.

Grosky squinted at the newspaper as he examined it. "Bronev's been broken out of prison then?! How have I only heard about this now?"

"It's just been yesterday," Desmond reminded.

"Yes, yes... But as his arrester, I would have liked to be informed sooner. Anyway, yes, this very well could have been Targent's doing..."

"'Could have been'?" Emmy put her hands on her hips. "Do you have any other ideas then, Detective Inspector?"

"I suppose not. It's a major probability, I would admit though, even without proof."

"So can you please help investigate? We've no idea where to start besides the prison, but we cannot get in without police authority," Emmy pleaded.

Grosky sighed. "I am tied to my duties. Being a Detective Inspector isn't as grand as it's title. I will see what I can do, but right now I can't promise you anything. I will get permission for you to investigate anyway."

"Many thanks, Detective Inspector," Desmond smiled. "I'm sure that in itself should be helpful."

"It's the least I can do," Grosky said as he picked up a pen and scribbled on an official looking piece of paper. "I'm sure Layton will get to the bottom of this."

Emmy looked at Desmond, but he ignored her. After Grosky handed him the slip of paper, they left to plan the next step of their investigation. Stepping outside of the Yard, Claire sighed.

"Do we really have enough time to go there and back before Hershel gets home?" Claire questioned.

"It's hard to say... Perhaps Emmy and I should just go."

"Desmond— do you really want to go deeper into this? You've already been put through so much. You have every right to avoid this." Claire put her hand on his shoulder.

"Claire... I don't really have a choice. But to answer your question, yes, I want to. I've said many times earlier, I'll do whatever it takes."

Claire sighed, taking her hand off his shoulder. "What am I suppose to tell Hershel if he comes home and you're not there?"

"That I'm coming back with a birthday surprise, perhaps? I could pick up something."

"But what if you don't come back?" Claire worried.

"Nonsense. Emmy will be with me. She's a professional martial artist," Desmond tried to sway. "and we're going to a heavily guarded prison."

"That didn't seem to stop Targent from taking Bronev," Claire reminded.

Desmond sighed in defeat, only having one argument left. "What do we do then? Just let them win and take no initiative at all? We need to at least try."

After thinking a moment longer, Claire knew he was right. "We really don't have a choice, do we?"

"No," Desmond stated. "I promise I'll do the best I can to be back before it gets too late."

"Okay... I don't like this, but fine. Just stay safe. Please," Claire implored.


	27. On the Hunt (pt 2)

**JoSeBach: Thanks so much! It's so encouraging to know there are still people out there reading and enjoying!**

Once Emmy and Desmond arrived at the prison, Desmond felt the same unsettling feeling come over himself as they entered. His heart rate quickening, he remembered all Bronev had spoke of last time. Blocking out the thoughts, he continued on. Looking over at Emmy, he noticed her unease also.

"Quite an unsettling atmosphere, isn't it?" Desmond pointed out.

"Yes... I visited Uncle Leon often... but I still felt heavy every time I came here. It is a very disturbing feeling."

"Then why did you keep coming?" Desmond asked.

Emmy sighed. "Because I care about Uncle Leon too much to leave him all alone. Although I hardly ever was able to bring a smile to his face, I couldn't not come. He has no one else to visit him. I only hope something can finally bring him joy again. He's so miserable all the time," Emmy said sadly.

Desmond wanted to spit back something about him deserving it after a life of wrongdoing, but he knew she felt differently about his worth, and cutting comments wouldn't help the situation.

"I know you don't know how to reply, but I really think you should give him a second chance. He's a different person," Emmy tried to persuade.

"Perhaps I'll think about it," Desmond said emotionlessly.

"Anyway... What sort of clues are you hoping to find here?"

"I haven't an idea in the slightest. I suppose we'll find out."

Thanks to the note of consent from DCI Grosky, the duo were able to investigate the prison cell where Bronev had been broken out of. After some time had passed, they realised they weren't getting anywhere. After they had exited the prison, they stood outside deciding what they would do next.

"I was sure there would be a clue about where they were now. I thought that perhaps they would try to lead us somewhere," Desmond pondered. There was silence for a moment. "I have another idea."

"The day is half over, it better not be too crazy of an idea." Emmy put her hands on her hips.

"Where better to find evidence of Targent than the last hideout we know of?" Desmond suggested.

"It's about a four hour drive there, Desmond! And that's not including the way back."

"Hah, that's all? Brilliant. It's a good thing you know where it is. Why not take the train for the first bit, then a taxi? It will be faster. I'm certain we could cut the time in half." Desmond already started walking.

"Desmond, this is crazy! Claire wants you back in time for the professor's birthday. Why can't this wait a day or two? We can set out earlier."

"Targent could strike before that. Bronev could be killed before then. We need to go now."

Emmy clenched her teeth. "You really know how to manipulate people... Let's go."


	28. On the Hunt (pt 3)

**Here you go guys, next one should be ready soon! (Saying that in text can hold me accountable so I'll post faster... Maybe xD)**

 **Thanks guys for your feedback!**

The trip to the hideout was long and quiet, but they did manage to cut down on time by taking the train and taxi, and Desmond got hopeful that he could still get back home on time. After the taxi had dropped them off in the middle of an eerie English wood, they headed off in the crisp, dry wintery weather to find the small base. Among the trees that had lost their leaves, there were evergreen trees and ivy that still speckled throughout the woods with some colour.

"It's quite far back, I should have warned you we would be hiking," Emmy said, starting to traverse the cold, windy woods.

Desmond was confused as he followed her. "Now I'm even more curious of how you got me out of here."

"Fine, I'll let you in on a secret. I have a friend who is... surprisingly stronger than me," Emmy laughed. "He's a nice guy, but even if he is stronger than me, his martial arts need some work. he gets a bit defensive if you ask him about how many times I've beaten him in a fight."

"A male friend, you say?" Desmond smirked. "Does your uncle know about this so-called 'friend'?"

"Maybe... but that's not important. And it's none of your business either. Hugh and I are just seeing if things will work out. We're not an proper couple yet."

"I bet Layton would like to be informed about your new relationship. He would be very happy for you," Desmond suggested jokingly.

"Enough, Desmond, we're just friends," Emmy tried to say firmly, but smiled and laughed a little bit, thinking of the idea of being Hugh's girlfriend. "I told you what you wanted to know, now leave me alone."

"All right, then. For the record, I'm happy for you, Miss Altava... Or should I say soon to be Mrs. Hugh."

"You best keep in mind I'm a martial artist," Emmy teased.

The two talked a bit on the way, but mostly just about light topics, or the adventures back on the Bostonius. As they got closer, Desmond remembered one of his favourite moments.

"Do you remember when the professor attempted to make the chief of Phong Gi laugh by wearing the guise of a duck?"

They both laughed, but then Desmond stopped as soon as he caught a glimpse of a small building.

Emmy became serious also. "There it is. Let's go. I very much doubt they are still here. As long as we keep our wits about us, we'll be fine."

Walking even closer, Desmond fully saw the shack like building, covered in green moss and ivy. His breathing began to quicken. Emmy took the lead, heading to the back of the broken down house. There were two metal doors in the ground that appeared to lead to a basement. Putting her hands on the two cold, rusty handles, she grunted and pulled the doors open with all of her strength.

"Agh!" Emmy shrieked, taking a step back as she saw dead spiders and centipedes hanging in the spiderwebs that laced down the basement hall. "Creepy..."

"I suppose your friend opened that for you the first time?"

"Enough about my friend," Emmy scolded. "Let's go..." She said hesitantly, seeing the spiderwebs that blew in the breeze down the stairway.

"Do you perchance have a torch?" Desmond asked.

"You're not scared, are you?"

"Don't be ridiculous, I only would prefer not to stumble my way down the steps," Desmond clarified.

"Right. To answer your question: sadly, I do not."

"Why not go in the front way?"

"I figured it would be a trap, maybe," Emmy shrugged.

Desmond put a hand to his chin. "But this way could also be a trap."

"I don't know, to me it just sounds like you're not a fan of the dark."

Desmond sighed in exasperation. "Let's just pick a way and go in. If coming here is indeed a trap, every point of entry will be just as dangerous as the next."

Deciding to go in the main door instead, they made their way to the front of the house. Emmy kicked open the locked door, and they slowly entered.

After each step they took, the floorboards creaked. Emmy cautiously led the way to the basement door. Desmond tried to calm his breathing, but there was such an unsettling atmosphere in this cabin that felt too familiar. To Desmond's relief, Emmy didn't notice his unease. Emmy grasped the icy feeling handle and pulled open the creaky wood door. Hearing the sound, Desmond took a step back and covered his ears with his hands. Shutting his eyes tightly, he swallowed, trying to block out memories that started flooding back to him.

Emmy turned to him, concern filling her eyes. "Desmond? Are you—"

"I- I'm okay..." Desmond left his eyes closed a moment longer before opening them and looking at Emmy. "I just... Nevermind, let's keep going," Desmond brushed it aside.

"... Are you sure?" Emmy stepped a step closer to him.

"It's just... that sound... the memories of the first time I was here... They're coming back," Desmond confessed.

"Do you want to wait here? I understand it would be hard to go back to the place where... where you were... put through so much pain."

"It's okay. I need to do this. For my brother's sake."

"He would understand this though. He wouldn't want you to put your mental state in a vulnerable position," Emmy tried to talk him out of it.

"I can handle it," Desmond argued.

"Uncle Leon told me about your visit with him, and about how it ended. These memories are clearly unbearably painful for you, and I don't think it's wise for you to go down to the basement," Emmy advised.

"I don't think you heard me clearly the first time, Miss Altava, I'm going down," Sycamore said firmly.

Emmy knew there was no persuading him. Desmond boldly took the lead. As Desmond pulled a cord hanging from the ceiling, the light clicked on. "I've come too far to turn back now."

"That's what Uncle Leon said when he unlocked the Azran Legacy," Emmy reminded.

Desmond ignored her. Walking down the creaky, wooden stairs, he tried to block out every emotion he felt rising inside of himself. Thoughts and flashes from the past rushed through his mind. He tried to ignore the pain, mental and physical, that started overtaking him. Reaching the bottom of the stairs, Desmond opened another door, a heavier, thicker one. Emmy followed from behind. They both entered the room. Turning on the light, Desmond stopped in his tracks, unable to breath. Although there were only cement block walls and a concrete floor, he knew this room was too familiar. The bloodstained walls and floor reminded him of everything. This is where they had killed Raymond. This is where so many iniquitous acts had been committed.

The sound of the gunshot... The sound of Raymond falling to the ground... and even the sound of Desmond's own cries came back to him along with the images.

"AGH! NO!" Desmond clutched his head in his shaking hands, falling to his knees.

"Desmond!" Emmy hurried and knelt by his side, putting a hand on his shoulder.

"Emmy, leave! This is a trap!" Desmond shouted desperately, his eyes closed tightly, his head still pressed tightly between his hands.

"Desmond, listen! You're only remembering things, you're okay! Targent isn't here!" Emmy tried to bring him out of his memories.

"No, I'm not okay! It hurts... I- I can't stop seeing these terrifying images... Ngh! Get out of my head!" Desmond contorted in towards his stomach further.

Emmy, not knowing what to do, stood back up to think. As soon as she spun around, a fist took her by surprise. "Agh!" Emmy dodged it quickly. In attempting to throw back a punch, she missed. Having been taken by surprise, it was too late to try to acquire the upper hand in this fight.

"Emmy! I- I—"

Emmy turned to Desmond, who was still on the ground, his head in his hands. Turning back to her opponent, she threw another punch. "I'm a bit busy, Desm—" Emmy was cut off as she was grabbed from behind. "No!" Emmy screamed, about to fight back, but a strong smelling cloth was place over her face. She refused to breath it in.

"All you need to know, Miss Altava, is that we won't kill him yet... and that Layton's turn is next. Be sure to tell him that, won't you?" The stranger said evilly.

Soon, Emmy had to take a breath, causing her to lose consciousness in her struggling.

The strange figures laughed, one holding Emmy who had gone limp, the other now approaching Desmond, still absorbed in his thoughts.

"If I were you, Descole, I would stop complaining about your past and start worrying about your future. Not only do we have half of the Bronev family now, but your brother is soon going to be in our grasp as well. Then, we will have three of the four people that the legend speaks of. Once we figure out where the last Bronev is, then we will be able to complete our goal."

"A... fourth Bronev...?" Desmond muttered, having caught the last of his words. Desmond's eyes flashed open as he had a moment of realisation. "Aha!" Desmond remarked, then was restrained. He didn't have much time to panic or struggle before a cloth was placed over his mouth and nose and was also rendered unconscious by the strong substance.


	29. Good News, Bad News

**WOOOO TOMORROW IS THE ONE YEAR ANNIVERSARY OF WHEN HOPE IS LOST! (First chapter was published 7 March, 2018. I honestly thought I would be finished with the story by now, but it be like that sometimes.)** ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

 **ImmortalSpuffy202: Thanks for your review!**

 **JoSeBach** **: That's a good guess! I wonder if you're right...**

 **Neo** - **Gojira** **54: Thanks for favouriting!**

 **Natilie** **System: You followed and favourited me as an author and this story! Thank you so much! :D It means a lot to me!**

* * *

"Happy birthday, Hershel!" Claire greeted her husband as he came inside from the outside snowy weather. He shut the door behind him, smiling at his wife as she hugged him and gave him a kiss.

"Happy birthday, Professor!" Flora came out from the kitchen into the living room.

Layton laughed in joy. "What a warm welcome... The only strange part is... where's Desmond?"

Claire knew he was going to ask that. Her nervousness throughout the day hadn't calmed at all. However, she had thought up an answer that wasn't lying or giving away the plain truth. "I'm sure he'll be back any moment now," Claire said, truly hoping she was right. "Let's get dinner around until he does."

The Layton family prepared the meal, the kitchen full of mirth. The later it got, the more worried Claire became. Flora had left for her room later on to work on her homework. As the clock neared six in the evening, the similar three quick knocks that Claire had heard in the morning repeated.

"Perhaps that's Desmond," Hershel started. "But why would he have knocked?" He then realised.

"I'll get it," Claire hurried out to the door. Her heart pounding, she knew she couldn't hide things from Hershel much longer. Opening the door, Emmy stood there, her face looking even more worried than the first time she had come in the morning.

"Emmy..." Claire started panicking, seeing her unease and noticing that Desmond wasn't with her. "Don't... Don't tell me..." Her voice became frail as the colour drained out of her face.

"I- I'm sorry, Claire... I- It's all my f- fault..."

"Claire, what's going on?" Hershel appeared from around the corner drying a pan with a dish towel. Seeing the two worried women, he set the pan aside. "Are you both all right?"

"Professor..." Emmy stepped forward inside their home hanging her head, almost in tears. "I'm never wanted to let you down again after I had betrayed you... But I'm certain I've messed up far worse this time." The pit in Emmy's stomach felt too deep for words to describe. Claire closed the door behind Emmy.

Hershel thought she was probably just being irrational. "Sit down, Emmy. Everything is going to be alrig—"

"Don't say that! You cannot promise me that!"

"What is it, then?" Layton asked calmly, realising this was probably more serious than he thought originally.

"It's D- Desmond... I- I'm so sorry..."

The professor's countenance fell entirely. "What... What's happened to him...?"

"The good news is... He's still alive. The bad news... Targent has him again."

Layton backed up towards the sofa. He sat down, processing her words.

"Please, let me explain what happened. To you too, Claire. This morning I came to ask Desmond for help in investigating Uncle Leon's disappearance. He's been stolen out of prison, Professor. It's Targent's doing. Anyway, we had a tough beginning, but eventually we put aside differences and went to Scotland Yard to ask DI Grosky about the matter. After getting his permission, we went to search the prison. We found nothing, and so Desmond made the rash decision to return to the hideout where he was tortured. I tried to stop him, but he was so convinced it was the only way to find answers. He was... overtaken by memories once we got there... and—" Emmy paused as she tried to calm herself. "I didn't know what to do. Seeing him so shaken distracted me. I- I was taken by surprise when Targent ambushed us. Right before they knocked me unconscious, they said to tell you that you're next. They're coming for you, Professor."

Layton put a hand to his chin. "Not unless I find them first."

"Hershel, this is madness," Claire took a step towards her husband sitting on the sofa. "What do you plan on doing? Why can't we get the police involved now? Emmy has seen them with her very eyes."

"They haven't helped us in the past, what makes you think they will help now? From everything I've gathered, I believe I have a hunch as to where Targent is. As for what I'm planning, I think it is as simple as fighting fire with fire."

Claire crossed her arms and couldn't help but roll her eyes. "Hershel... seeing the seriousness of this... Could you please refrain from speaking in riddles for once in your life?! I'm dead sick of having no idea what's happen!"

Layton was shocked, seeing Claire snap. He had never seen her come to this point of breaking.

"I'm sorry, Hershel... I didn't mean to take my frustration out on you... I feel like there's so much coming between us," Claire confessed. "I just want this to be all over... The constant suspense... I'm tired of it all," Claire nervously held her arms.

Hershel stood up and came by Claire's side.

Claire looked down as he put his hands on her shoulders.

"Claire... I know as well as you do how tiring this all is," Hershel reminded.

The telephone rang loudly.

"Professor... it could be Targent," Emmy suspected.

Layton sighed, taking his hands off of Claire's shoulders and apprehensively approaching the ringing telephone. Quietly picking up the receiver, he lifted it to his ear.

"Hello?"

"Professor Layton. It's an honour to be speaking with you," A voice said dramatically.

"I wish I could say the same," Layton said straightly.

"Let's not make this conversation longer than it needs to be. I've only called to tell you that your brother is here waiting for you. He isn't awake yet... but once he is, he will wish he never awoke."

A chill ran down Layton's spine. "Don't... Don't hurt him, please..." Layton uttered out in the firmest voice he could muster, which wasn't very firm.

"Alright, Layton. I'll make a deal with you. If you come right now, your brother won't suffer."

Layton thought a moment, knowing this was a direct trap. Despite his emotions clouding his mind, he knew he had to stay calm. "I'll be there as soon as I can."

Claire and Emmy looked at each other in shock of Layton's answer. The man told Layton where to meet him. Hershel hung up the phone. Seeing Emmy and Claire's frightened faces, he explained himself.

"I have a plan, and I'm asking that you trust me. I'll do everything in my power to bring this situation to light, and bring Desmond back," Layton looked at Emmy. "And Bronev, as well."

Claire looked down. She closed her eyes tightly. "I... I just can't bear the thought of losing you. I want to come with you."

"Please don't make this harder for me..." Hershel frowned. He let out a breath, trying to calm his racing thoughts. "I'm certain that I can outsmart Targent."

"But what if there's a piece to the puzzle that you're missing? An unseen that takes this event in a different direction than you're prepared for?"

"While you do have a good point, Claire, I cannot base my logic on 'what ifs'," Layton shook his head. "If new information arises, things should become more clear. What makes you think I'm missing something...?" Hershel questioned, raising an eyebrow in suspicion.

"I suppose it's just me worrying..." Claire answered simply. "I do trust you, Hershel. Just please be safe," Claire stepped forward to embrace her husband.

Hershel slipped his arms around her, holding her tightly. "I will. Emmy, can you stay here with Claire and Flora?"

"Of course, Professor," Emmy nodded, trusting Layton to get to the bottom of this, although everything within her wanted to go with him to help.

The professor hurried to leave, despite it being nearly nighttime. After a tearful goodbye, Hershel left on his mission into the foggy London night.


	30. Captured

**DragonDances: Thanks so much for following and favouriting me and my story!**

 **JoSeBach: Hmm interesting indeed, I mean, I suppose she has been pretty suspicious lately... A good idea you have there.**

 **Bifangirl: Thanks for your review and all the support you've shown by favouriting and following me and this story! Your review also had a very interesting theory as well. Guess we'll find out if you're right or not... Soon!**

"Stay away from my brother!" Desmond shouted, his mind automatically being overtaken with unbearable thoughts and memories from before. There was the smell of mould and rusty metal. It was cold, dank, and dark. His eyes flashed open, but nothing could be seen. Next he realised he was lying on the ground, and he couldn't move. His legs were tied tightly and his arms close around his torso. Struggling for a few seconds, Desmond realised the pointlessness of trying to escape. Laying still, he started worrying about Targent finding Hershel and his family. Everything silent but his breathing, he didn't know how long he could bear the overwhelming thoughts of his family getting hurt. What if they were already there being tortured? He didn't know how long he was going to lay there wondering what fate would befall him and his family. Just waiting would kill him in suspense. Although escaping was futile, he had to at least try. Struggling with all his energy he had left, he tried to free himself from the straightjacket that had him restrained. The cold started to get to him. His fingers and toes started to become numb. The cement floor he lay on felt icy as well. The more he struggled, he thought it would help warm himself, but the frigid room wouldn't allow any comfort of warmth. The only thing squirming brought was exhaustion. Silent, freezing hours passed, leaving Desmond cold, exhausted, and lonely. His heavy eyes started falling closed, frightening thoughts still racing in his mind. Not able to mentally handle this circumstance, his consciousness felt as if it was being stolen from him. He didn't even attempt to keep a hold on it. He let the darkness take him away.

The next thing Desmond knew, he felt his stiff arms being freed from behind. Next his legs were loosed. His foggy mind began clearing as his body was turned over in familiar, safe arms. Awaking and opening his heavy eyes, Desmond saw his brother Hershel looking down at him in the now lit room. Sycamore started to worry. Ignoring his aching muscles, he started pushing away from his brother.

"You cannot be here!"

"Desmond, you're not hurt, are you? What have they done to y—"

"I'm fine, you need to leave before they—"

"Listen to me! They don't know I'm here yet. You need to calm yourself."

Desmond swallowed, attempting to calm his rapid breathing. He slowly sat up, Layton's hand on his back.

"Desmond, are you sure you're all right? Targent hasn't hurt you?" Hershel asked in a concerned manner.

"Yes, I'm all right," Desmond sighed.

Layton sighed in relief. "Thank goodness. I have a plan. I believe I'm into Swift's motive. I'm hoping all else will become clear with time."

"You imbecile! Why would you come here with minimal information?! This is a trap!"

"I'm aware that this is a trap. What Targent doesn't know... is that I've done some research," Layton lowered his voice for the last bit. He slowly stood up, offering his hand down towards Desmond to help him up.

"Have you gone mad? Swift won't be reasoned with," Desmond shook his head.

"I believe I have a crucial piece of information that will help him listen to reason."

"You believe? I cannot let you take that risk."

"What other choice do we have? Hide and wait to repeat this process all over again? You must trust me, Desmond. Please," Layton still held his hand out to him.

Sighing, Sycamore took his hand and stood up, grunting and fighting the feeling of gravity that tried to pull his weak body back to the ground. "Alright. As much as I hate this, I guess I should support you in this. Let's pay Swift a visit."


	31. Confrontation

**We are finally coming to the end with another five chapters left (probably) and perhaps two bonus chapters in between to help lighten things with the seriousness and heaviness of the final chapters. Thank you to all, especially to those that have stayed with the story throughout my unpredictable posting. You guys rock!**

 **KH777: Thank you for your review! It's always nice to hear positive feedback!**

 **badabiwngbadabing** : **Thanks** **so** **much** **for** **following!**

 **ImmortalSpuffy202: Thanks again for another encouraging review!**

 **LuceteStellae: Thanks for following!**

 **~•~•~**

 **This is an intense one, but I plan on going back to the beginning of the story in the next chapter to get a little more insight on what Descole was feeling towards his injuries and situation. So don't get super excited when you see the next chapter is up... but please still read it! It's like a deleted scene, sort of.**

 **Enjoy this chapter!**

* * *

Shing... shing...

The slow, grating sound of metal being sharpened against a whetstone echoed throughout the room filled with books filled with information about the Azran civilisation. A single desk sat in the centre of the room and the individual that sat there filled the room with a cold and dark atmosphere that even the vilest of people could not ignore.

The wooden door clicked open. "Boss, they're coming," A uniformed man announced.

"As if I didn't already know that," Swift spat, sliding the knife loudly across the stone a final time, then sticking the tip of the blade into the corner of his desk, which had plenty of marks indicating this wasn't the first time he had stuck his knife into it. "It's time. We have three of the Bronevs. They will tell us the location of the final one, and then after we have all four bloods we will have the knowledge to save thousands."

The door opened just then, Layton and Sycamore entering. The guard that had just entered took his leave, leaving the trio on their own.

"Swift. I supposed you already knew I was here," Layton held the brim of his hat.

"Of course. How thick do you think I am?" Swift shrugged.

"I'm sure you don't want me to answer that question," Desmond snarked.

"Yes, I've already heard you make it quite clear to me how you feel about me. Anyway," Swift put his elbows on the desk in front of himself and put his hands together. "Tell me where and who the forth Bronev is. Is it a distant aunt, uncle, or maybe sibling?"

"A fourth Bronev...?" Layton pondered aloud.

"Yes, Layton. My money is on that you have another sibling you don't know about. Perhaps Desmond would like to enlighten us. Leon Bronev wouldn't confess to having another child, but that is what a father would do... no matter the cost."

"Then what makes you think we would?" Desmond asked.

"Under the right incentive you will tell me," Swift pulled his knife out of the table and stood up.

"We know you're planning on killing us anyway. Why would threatening us make us tell you anything?" Desmond questioned further.

"What if I told you you were right for once? Right about me deciphering the words of the Azran wrong? I perhaps made a mistake in translating. Right, the Azran don't actually want you dead. They only require your blood. I do apologise for that, Descole. However, such lengths may be required again if you don't cooperate."

"Nothing you say at this point is trustworthy. You could still be planning to murder us," Layton pointed out.

"That doesn't matter. I have a feeling," Swift started walking out from behind his desk, towards Layton. "That Descole would do anything to prolong his little brother's life."

Descole felt a spark of anger ignite inside him. He grit his teeth. "Don't touch him."

"Hah, seems I was right," Swift shrugged, taking another step towards Layton. Layton knew any rash movements would not be in his favour. He stood as still as a statue, Swift, almost in grasp of Layton, raised his knife.

"Swift, I'll kill you if you do as much as lay a finger on him!" Descole screamed, his eyes piercing an intense glare at Swift. Without thinking, Descole darted at him. Before Descole could stop him, Swift dodged behind Layton and grasped his upper arm with a vice like grip, pulled him to his knees, and held the sharp blade under his throat.

Layton grunted in discomfort of the position he was being held in. A malicious grin spread across Swift's face as he angled the knife closer to Hershel's neck, finally coming into contact with his skin. Layton's breathing wavered, trying to stifle his groans of unease from feeling the cold metal.

"Swift, what do you want with me, you fool?" Descole's words escaped quickly. "I'll give you whatever you want. Anything."

"You know what I want!" Swift grabbed Hershel's scalp and pulled his head back. Layton cried out, his breathing becoming even more unsteady than before. "Now tell me before I give you something else to grieve about!"

"FINE! It's true!" Descole shouted. "It's our sister... She is the fourth Bronev you're looking for..."

"If you don't elaborate, I might not believe you," Swift rolled his eyes, still holding Layton back.

"Desmond... we have... a sister?" Hershel panted, wondering why he hadn't known this sooner.

"Trust me, Hershel... I never told you... but—"

"You're lying. You would have told Layton about her before now."

"No, you have to believe me, I'm telling the truth!" Desmond begged. "I never told him because—"

"I don't want to hear your pitiful excuse, even if it is good, I won't believe you. I worked with Bronev as long as I've been a part of Targent, until the day he was caught. I was decided leader of Targent from that point on. Since then, the other archaeologists left of Targent and I have been studying the Azran further."

"Then why would you question if we had a sibling or not?!" Descole raged.

"Because now I know whatever you're going to tell me is a lie. Therefore, you know who you're hiding and protecting."

"No, you dullard! Has the thought ever occurred to you that perhaps Bronev didn't even know about her?!" Descole shouted. "She had a different mother!"

"I was his right hand man longer than you were his son. If anyone would know, it would be me. Say what you will. I'll let you have a break from this agony. But only long enough that you can think about your options, and then we will continue."

Hershel gasped in pain as Swift roughly kicked him forward into the floor, knocking the wind out of him. "I'll leave you two. I think it would be best if next time we involved your father," Swift left, the knife still in his hand.

As soon as the door closed, Desmond quickly fell next to Hershel. "Are you okay, Theo— Er— Hershel?!"

Layton inhaled sharply, trying to catch his breath.

"I'm sorry. I don't know where that came from. I haven't called you that in thirty years... I suppose I let my emotions get the better of me..."

"It's... fine..." Layton coughed, rolling over onto his side, trying to get up, but Desmond quickly put a hand on his shoulder. "Don't move. Give yourself a moment for the pain to subside."

"Ngh..." Layton couldn't respond right away.

"I remember what his kicks to the back feel like. It feels like breathing has never been more difficult. If your muscles weren't already stiff enough before, now every muscle is tensing worse than before. It's unimaginable how one quick blow can hurt for so long. But then again, perhaps it's only because time seems to stop, or be unbearably long when you're in pain," Desmond looked on his pained, crumpled brother with compassion as he was kneeled next to him. "Ugh, time feels even longer when you have to watch your brother suffer."

Layton took a pained breath. "I'm... okay..." Slowly, he got to his hands and knees and stood up shakily, Desmond by his side supporting him.

As soon as Layton was steady, Desmond let him go.

"Desmond... Why didn't you tell me there was a fourth Bronev?"

"Hershel, did you really think I knew that? I'm just as surprised as you. Even if I did know who he was talking about, I wouldn't tell you. Swift is very likely listening to this conversation."

"Right... we need to speak with him as soon as possible. But this time, let me do the talking."

Desmond rolled his eyes and sighed. "Alright. I trust you know what you're doing. You normally do."


	32. Lies

**This is a bonus chapter, taking place during the second chapter of this story. The beginning that I had already written is included so you can see where I picked up from.**

 **I am proud of this chapter. I really like how the wording flows, and I did it in a day. If only all chapters were that easy... I believe where I am in my own life is helping with that extra dose of creativity.**

 **I've been seeing people as individuals, and not just a crowd of people. Everyone has a unique story. I also wrote this chapter for suicide awareness. People are beautiful gifts to this world, no matter what. It's sad when people don't see themselves that way. Recognise today that you are seen, heard, and loved. THERE IS HOPE! Things will get better, even if you can't see it now. Realise that even in your darkest moments, there is Someone who loves you more than you could ever know. ~John 3:16**

 **PM me if you need someone to talk to.**

 **~•~•~**

 **Here's a look into what Descole was feeling and going through the night Layton found him. I decided not to put it in originally because it ruins the reveal of his injuries to Layton, and I wanted to have that vibe of Descole's secretiveness.**

* * *

When they finally reached Layton's home, Layton knocked on the door, unable to find his key while supporting Descole. Descole had his arm slung around his brother's neck weakly, and Layton's arm was across the back of Descole's shoulders, trying his hardest to hold him in a standing position. After a short while, Claire began unlocking the door.

"Hershel, where were you?! I was getting worri—" The red haired woman gasped in shock as she had fully opened the door to see the injured, masked man her husband had brought home.

"Claire... we need to talk," Hershel said seriously, hanging onto his weak brother who was gasping in pain, about to collapse.

Claire was still frozen in surprise with wide eyes, but then she snapped out of her daze. "O- Oh! I'm sorry, dear, bring him in," Claire stepped out of the way, letting them enter. "I didn't mean to make you stand out in the rain. Let me get you two dry clothes."

Claire left for the bedroom. As Descole and Layton stood there soaked, Descole had many questions.

"You... have a wife?" Descole asked quietly, still shivering slightly, but seemed a little less pained now that their journey here was over.

Layton sighed. "It's a long story... but yes. I couldn't be happier."

"Hmm..." Descole hummed, still wanting to know the rest of the story. He shook his last shiver out, and stood up a little straighter.

"Do you think you're able to stand by yourself?" Layton asked, realising he wasn't supporting much of Descole's weight anymore.

"Yes... I believe so..." Descole slowly let go of his brother, although he was still a bit unstable and hunched over.

Claire returned with dry nightclothes for each of them, and Layton showed Descole to the spare room and bathroom. Descole staggered towards the bathroom to change.

* * *

~ Bonus scene ~

After turning on the light and closing the door, he was met with his reflection in the bathroom mirror in front of the sink. Now that he was all alone, the only thing he could think about was the throbbing pain throughout his body. Taking off his mask and soggy hat, he cringed at the sight of his face. A deep cut across his forehead had stopped bleeding, but the dried blood looked liked it was still dripping down his face. A dark bruise along the edge of his jaw was among the other facial injuries he had obtained. Inside, a headache pounded fiercely. Descole felt as if he had aged a decade from this encounter with Targent. Although his facial injuries weren't the most critical of his injuries, they were the hardest to hide. He could just wear his mask around everywhere, but that might arouse more questions than his injuries. He knew he had better clean himself up best as possible to avoid Layton's questions.

Grabbing the bottom of his shirt, he started taking it off. The wet shirt peeling off of his stinging, tender skin hurt beyond words. He bit his tongue to keep his curses in. Halfway up, sharp pain shot through his right side, forcing a cry out of him as he fell to his knees. Struggling for air, he lifted his quivering hand to the counter of the sink. Shakily, he stood back up, even more pain going through his stiff muscles.

There was a knock at the door. "Descole, are you all right?" Layton sounded very concerned.

Still gripping the counter with both hands, he tried to catch his breath. "I- I'm okay..." Descole hated himself for how weak he sounded. He most certainly did not sound okay, and he not feel okay. He was not okay.

"... Alright, then. Let me know if you need anything or if you need any help," Layton's footsteps wandered away.

Anger started boiling deep inside Descole. He had to be okay. Either okay or dead, not in between the two. He would not need to be assisted with the simple tasks of life, such as dressing himself. The very thought of Layton needing to help him was utterly humiliating. What was the point of going on living? There was no hope left. Everyone and everything that meant something to him was gone, and now he somehow ended up with nothing left except a place to stay in his brother's measly little home, devastated and wounded severely. Through Descole's laboured breaths, he suppressed tears and hung his head. This pain was too much. Physically, emotionally, and mentally. It was killing him, and he couldn't take it anymore. Looking up, he saw his likeness again. Letting go of the edge of the sink, he carefully unbuttoned his shirt instead of pulling it over his head as he walked over to the shower to hang it up to dry, along with his boa that reminded him of his daughter. Heading back over to the mirror, he hesitated to look at himself in the mirror. After he had gather the courage, he looked up. The sight of his bruised, marred chest and torso made him lightheaded. There was a variety of shapes and sizes of the bruises covering his body from all the different kicks and beatings he endured. Descole stared at each and every individual contusion, (however, they all seemed to merge together anyway) feeling the pain from them course throughout his body. Looking at the biggest one, he heard a voice.

" _That one is for_ _letting_ _your_ _wife die_ _right in_ _your arms. You failed_ _as a husband,"_ A voice said inside of him.

He cast his glance down to his side.

" _Those cuts are payback for being_ _such_ _a_ _terrible_ _father and letting your daughter get murdered, as well."_

His side throbbed again.

" _You deserve the aching in your side. Every time it hurts, remember how you couldn't_ _take_ _care of your brother. You were a failure of a brother, also. He had to be adopted by someone else to make up for your failure."_

And the next abrasion _._

" _This is what you get for_ _trying to hurt and kill people. Especially your very own brother and his friends. You deserve to be dead."_

"STOP!" Descole whispered, closing his eyes tightly. A single tear rolled down his face. Lies like these plagued his soul daily. Surely he recognised that they were lies, but that didn't mean he didn't believe them. On the contrary, he believed these lies were true with his entire being. Looking back up at his wretched reflection a last time, he opened the mirror. Behind it lay exactly what he was looking for. Something that could end all of this pain for good. Picking up the razor between his cold, clammy fingers, without looking he placed it to his wrist.

A soft knock startled Descole again, but he still held the razor close to his wrist, ignoring the sound.

"Sorry to bother you again, Descole... I just felt I should tell you... make yourself at home. I know it's not much, and we didn't give you the warmest of welcomes... but Claire and I have talked it out. We really want you to be here and we're concerned about you. We're here for you."

More tears slid down Descole's face as he realised his brother was a conflicting voice against the lies. There was truth to replace them.

A voice that says he is seen.

A voice that says he is not alone.

Maybe there was a little hope through this pain. Although his annoying brother drove him to the edge sometimes, Descole knew he could trust him and be safe here. Safe from further pain. It might not end entirely, but things would get better. They had to.

Descole cleared his throat. "Thank you. I'm nearly ready."

"Don't rush," Layton said hospitably, then left.

"Thank you for saving my life, that is," Descole muttered under his breath, putting the razor back in its place and closing the mirror soundlessly. Although part of him, most of him, still wanted to die, he decided his brother's intervention was proof enough this world wasn't finished with Jean Descole yet.


	33. The Fourth Bronev

**"AHHHHHH!" How I feel after writing this chapter. It is getting dark, guys, but I think I actually know where the story is heading... maybe haha.**

 **KH777: Thanks for your review on the bonus chapter!**

 **ImmortalSpuffy202: I'm so excited to release this chapter for your sake! You've been living in suspense for long enough!**

* * *

"All right. Let's not make this difficult," Swift said, clearly irritated. "The time has come for one of you to tell me where the fourth Bronev is."

Layton, Sycamore, and Bronev all were in a room with Swift, similar to the one Desmond had been in before. There was nothing but brick walls and cement floors with some random chains hanging from the walls. Bronev was tied to a wooden chair, being too weak to stand. The brothers were not restrained, but took that as a sign that Swift was confident in the power he had over them, and that they shouldn't try to do anything drastic.

"Swift..." Bronev muttered. "We truly don't know. End this now," His feeble voice showed how weak he was. His straggly, messy hair covered his rugged face.

"I do not choose when this ends. That is up to one of you. I know one of you must know something!"

"Why don't you just take our bloods and see what happens? Perhaps you translated the number of Bronevs wrong as well!" Sycamore scorned. "If you can count you can see that there are only three of us!"

"Believe me, if you keep up this nagging me, I will have your blood very soon, and plenty of it!" Swift shouted.

Hershel grabbed Desmond's arm and whispered to him. "It would be wise not to upset him."

Desmond turned to him. "I don't care. I'd rather him hurt me than you," He said somewhat caringly.

"Do you two have something you'd like to share with us?" Swift crossed his arms.

"Actually, yes," Sycamore spat. "We were just discussing what a dullard you are."

Swift only chuckled. "I have something you might want to see, Descole." Reaching into his jacket, he pulled out a coiled object. "Remember this?" He held up a brown whip laced with sharp bits of metal, stained with Desmond's own blood.

Desmond breathing nearly stopped as his pupils grew big in fear. His rapid and shallow breathing soon made him lightheaded. "I wish I didn't..." Desmond muttered, closing his eyes.

"Remember how much it stings? And how each and every strike takes your breath away, how it rips your flesh into bits, leaving you in utter—"

"Shut up!" Desmond grabbed his head in his hands, his eyes still shut, and fell to his knees groaning.

"Swift, stop this!" Bronev pleaded with all his strength, pulling the chair forward that he was tied to.

"I will when you tell me what I want to know! How many more times must I explain this to you?!"

"I don't know who it is! I swear I don't! It might be some distant relative, but I haven't been in contact with any of them for years! Please, leave my son alone. Let me help you find them," Bronev begged.

Swift hummed. "No. I like this way much better," Swift turned his malicious gaze back to Desmond, who was now curled up on the ground, reliving a nightmare. Hershel was already kneeling by his side. Desmond gasped in pain, causing further concern from Bronev and Layton.

Layton put a hand on his shoulder. "Desmond, can you hear me?"

"Don't touch me!" Desmond screamed.

Hershel took his hand off of him, not knowing what to do to help him.

Swift took the communication device from his belt and held it to his face. "I'm going to need a few more men down here. We're about to get the answers we need."

"Desmond, it's going to be okay. You're not being hurt, and I won't let you get hurt again," Layton tried to keep his voice sounding calm as he tried to bring Desmond out of the flashback. It seemed entirely fruitless, seeing as the same situation was repeating itself in reality.

"Desmond, what you're seeing isn't real. Try to focus. Focus on my voice," Hershel kept talking and repeating his name, trying to bring him back.

It wasn't long until some of Swift's men flooded the room. Just then, Desmond's eyes shot open, staring at his concerned brother.

"Layton...Thank you," Desmond sighed.

The men quickly surrounded them, two pinning Desmond to the ground and two pulling Layton away.

"NO!" Sycamore shouted, struggling in vain as his brother was dragged over to Swift.

Swift stripped the shirt off of Hershel. Layton grunted as he fought against the men dragging him closer to the wall, and soon his hands were chained above his head, his face facing the wall. Hershel tensed in fear, not knowing when the first strike would come.

"Swift, don't touch him!" Desmond tried lifting his head, but an agent forced his head down. The pressure put on his entire body made it hard for him to breathe.

"Are you going to tell me?" Swift asked doubtfully while uncoiling the whip.

"I— I cannot tell you something I do not know..." Desmond cried, his voice quivering in fear.

"We'll see about that," Swift quickly and carefully straightened the sharp whip out by his side, then quickly lashed Hershel's back, causing a sound of breathlessness and agony out of him. Every muscle in his body tensed even harder in fear of the next dreaded strike.

"NOOOO! STOP!" Desmond lamented, struggling with everything inside him to free himself as the second lash cut his brother fiercely.

Tears poured down Leon's face as he hung his head. Hearing the steady paced, forceful whip tearing apart his youngest son, and the elder screaming for the pain to stop; Bronev would've done anything to end their suffering. But he couldn't. He only sat there and wept. Wept for all the years he had ignored them, all the years they had lost together. A few wrong choices too many left him full of remorse. He felt as if this were one of many punishments for all of his wrongdoing.

"CLAIRE IS PREGNANT!" Desmond exploded, his chest heaving for air.

The continuous sound of the whip finally ceased after the fourth strike, but Hershel's cries did not. Swift turned to look at Desmond, who was now convulsing under the hold of the two men. Hershel was incapacitated, unable to answer as he gasped in sharp breaths, sounds of anguish escaping his tight throat.

"What did you say...?" Swift asked.

"It's true... she is... carrying the fourth Bronev..." Desmond breathed out in between breaths, his chest still being forced into the gritty ground beneath him.

"Strangely enough, I believe you. Layton, how noble of you to keep quiet for your wife's sake."

"I... agh— didn't know..." Hershel breathed out, unable to comprehend what had been said. "No! It— cannot... be true!" He uttered, unable to say anymore as he twisted in pain, his feet almost giving out beneath him.

"I'm not making this up!" Desmond argued. "I know you must be angry for her not telling you, Hershel... but she didn't tell me, she told no one, but I figured it out. She didn't tell you because she wanted to keep you from worrying... and to keep the baby safe. But now we know Swift isn't going to kill us... he only needs the blood. So now we can just wait until the baby is born and is old enough. So can you let us go now?!"

Swift raised an eyebrow. "Who put you in charge? Let him go."

The men let Sycamore free. Slowly sitting up, Desmond caught his breath and continued. "I only assumed... you cannot possibly be mad enough to think that you can get the blood now..."

"I don't care! It will be too late in nine months! I have to try!" Swift turned to his men. "Guard the door. I must get in contact with this Claire..."

All of Swift's men left behind him, leaving the trio confused.

"'Too late'?" Desmond started to regret having told Swift this, although he had thought it to be fine. Perhaps Swift really was mad enough to try getting the baby's blood while still in the womb. He would kill the child. Not only that, but now Claire was now in danger too.

* * *

 **And welcome to the climax of the story! Not sure if the suspense is better or worse now that the fourth Bronev has been revealed...**


	34. Explaining To Do

**ImmortalSpuffy202: Thanks for taking a moment to review the last chapter! I've been a little less busy so I'm able to update quicker now. But that will only last for another two weeks, sadly...**

 **Next chapter to come soon!**

* * *

As soon as Swift left and closed the door, Desmond stumbled up off the ground and hurried to Hershel to free him. As he meddled with the lock, he stopped a moment, catching a glimpse of his brother's back. Swift had wasted no time in being accurate. Each of the four strikes had left a red stripe, one deep enough that blood started to drip down Hershel's back. As Desmond saw these marks, guilt and failure began plaguing him again. These feelings were so extreme it caused Desmond pain. He felt a deep pit in his stomach and a lump in his throat. He shouldn't have let him go through this suffering.

"I'm so sorry, I never should have let him do this..." Desmond mourned as he returned to loosening his hands.

"Ngh—" Hershel choked as he lowered his arms painfully. He put his hands on the wall in front of him, trying to cope with the coursing pain through his back. Even though the impact was over, his back felt as if it was still in the process of being sliced open. Shutting his eyes tightly, he attempted to swallow the sounds that tried to escape him.

"Hershel..."

"Just—" Hershel's breathing hitched for a second. "Give me a moment..." The longer time went on, the more it felt like his back was on fire.

Desmond stepped back and waited. He cast a side glance at Bronev. He supposed he should untie him, but he really didn't want to. Bronev's head hung in shame, not wanted to face his sons again. Deciding to stay near Hershel, Desmond pretended to forget about Bronev for a moment. He waited for Hershel to recover enough to talk.

Hands still on the wall, Hershel turned his head to Desmond. He didn't know where to start. "Claire... is she really... pregnant?"

"Yes, I'm certain of it. I know it's hard to take it in that you're going to be a father. It was for me, and I wasn't in this tense situation... I know you'll never let me live it down that I knew about your child before you did... but I swear it's true..."

Layton was still speechless, unable to comprehend a clear thought through his pain. "But... how could I not have known or noticed? I cannot believe this..."

"Love is blind," Desmond shrugged, then the room once again went back to being silent. He felt as if he owed an apology to Layton. Pain still could be seen in Hershel's eyes, even if he was trying so hard to hold everything together. Desmond was sure that the emotional pain Hershel had in this moment matched his physical pain. Knowing he was going to be a father should have been exciting, but in this circumstance made the news mostly frightening, knowing his baby was in danger.

"I'm sorry for all of this... I should have told Swift sooner before he could hurt you..."

"If this really is true, you shouldn't have told him at all!" Hershel shouted, letting his agony get the better of his emotions.

"I'm sorry I'm a failure! But if I wouldn't have told him, then you would be dead! Or at least close to dead!" Desmond defended himself, feeling as if he truly did fail him. But what other choice did he have? At least he stopped Swift before letting Hershel get beaten into a pulp.

"But worse, now he's going to kill my wife and... my... my child..." Layton's eyes grew as he said the truth aloud. "Desmond... do you really believe I... have a child?"

"I already told you. Yes. I could tell Claire was hiding something from us... but it was good of her to hide it. Don't worry about her. Swift wouldn't do anything that drastic... would he? He's kept us alive for this long. Does he really intend to murder anyone?"

"Yes... He will go to any lengths to save his daughter."

"What?"

"That's his motive... His daughter is terminally ill. He thinks the power of the Azran is the only way to save her. He— Agh!" Hershel drew in a quick breath as a spasm of sharp pain sliced through his back. Hunching forward, he tried to stop himself from falling entirely.

"Hershel! Don't talk right now. Rest. We need to find something to clean your cuts. You're going to get an infection."

"You would be one to know about that," Hershel pointed out.

"An infection was the least of my worries. But let's not talk about me. Sit down," Desmond urged. Hershel sat of the ground carefully and Desmond kneeled next to him.

"I promised you I would do whatever it took to help your family, but I failed..."

Still in pain, Hershel only looked at the ground as he spoke. "I suppose I reacted too harshly. I'm sorry for losing my temper with you. Please don't feel like this is your fault. There's nothing you could have done."

"But I let him do this to you..." Desmond couldn't shake the remorse. "I could not control my emotions, and when they took over, I couldn't think straight... if only I could've—"

"Desmond, enough. We cannot dwell on what could have been," With a sincere look in his eyes, Hershel looked at Desmond. "I know you aren't easily persuaded, but these things you are thinking are all lies. Can't you see all of these negative things you want to believe about yourself are all just lies?"

With unbelief, Desmond looked back into his brother's serious eyes. "Don't be ridiculous..." He slowly stood up and turned away, not able to look into his brother's eyes any longer.

"You're not a failure, Desmond."

It was almost as if the truth had gripped Desmond by the ankles, stopping him in his tracks. After swallowing, he breathed out.

"I don't care if you don't want to believe that, but I want you to know that's what I know to be true. You always come through when I need you to. Back when we were in the Azran sanctuary a year ago, you risked your life to save Luke. You're not a failure."

Desmond closed his eyes tightly, not wanting another emotional roller coaster to start. "Hershel, I think we have more important things to discuss right now."

"Your dignity is important," Hershel said seriously.

"Your wife is pregnant!" Desmond reminded, turning back towards him. "I think that's a little more important at the moment."

"Fine. But don't forget what I said... Believing things that aren't true about yourself can destroy you... and it could mean life or death in this situation. You could be your own worst enemy," Hershel trailed off, then thinking back to the matter at hand, so many questions plaguing him. "I still cannot believe Claire did not tell me..."

"She really wanted to... it was such a hard secret for her to keep, I see now, but she wanted to protect us. When I knew she was hiding something, I was upset, thinking it would tear you two apart, but she said it wasn't keeping secrets that was dangerous, it was having a lack of trust in each other."

"I see..." Hershel slowly stood up, grimacing in pain. "I only wish I could protect her... but now that we are on the enemy's territory, we are under his power. I should have never left Claire that note! For once, I've been surprised with a fact I didn't know. If I had known this was going to take such a turn, I would have told her to stay out of this..."

Desmond froze. "...What note?"

* * *

 **Desmond is me.**

 **"Let's not talk about me"**

 ***Immediately proceeds to** **talk about "me" and have a pity party for "me"***


	35. Emmy and Claire

**Wooo I updated before anyone could review the last chapter! Not sure if that's good or not... If you have a moment, please review... :)**

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Emmy spent the night with Claire and Flora, unsure of what move they should make next, or if they should leave the situation in the two brothers' hands. The three of them slept restlessly that night. The next morning, Emmy and Claire discussed what they should do to help. Flora had already left for school.

"I don't think it's fair to let them face this alone. They're as frightened as we are, if not, more. They're the ones with the weight and responsibility of protecting us on their shoulders," Claire clarified.

"To be completely honest, I feel like I should be the one out there protecting them. I did do that as a career once, sort of... protect Hershel Layton, I mean."

Claire laughed. "That's amusing to think about. I'm sure your martial arts skills were very useful in that department."

"Yes... I did manage to save his life a few times, I suppose," Emmy chuckled a little. "I only hope I can do it once more."

As there was a moment of silence, something in Claire snapped. She stood up from the table, determination filling her eyes. "I've been selfish. When I married Hershel, I promised I would always be by his side, no matter what. I'm breaking that promise right now, and I need to make it right. I don't know how I can help him in this situation, but I must."

"I feel the same way. I feel like we should be there for them both. I know the professor has a plan, but something just doesn't feel right. Where would you even start to look for him?"

"Perhaps he left a clue for me. That would be like him... He knows I cannot stand leaving him to fend for himself. He knows I'd follow him to the ends of the earth no matter what. Let's check our room."

The two women went to investigate the room. Claire's assumption was shown to be correct when she opened the top drawer of Hershel's nightstand. A note lay there, which she quickly opened to read. As Claire's eyes quickly scanned the paper, Emmy became impatient.

"What does it say?" Emmy asked.

"He says he's figured out Swift's motive. He has a plan but he's not sure if it will work, seeing as there is many unseen possibilities that could happen. He wants us to intervene if he's not back by tomorrow."

"He wants us to wait until tomorrow? What if that's too late?"

Claire sighed. "That's what I thought. But Hershel knew I would think that. Listen to this," Claire lifted the paper and read.

 _My dearest Claire,_

 _I knew you would want to get involved, and I won't try to stop you. You always find a way to get yourself into my own problems, and I'm afraid part of me is thankful for that. I will admit, this is something very difficult for me to face on my own. Although I never wanted to put you in harm's way, I see it is inevitable in this situation. So instead of letting you run blindly into this, I will tell you what I know already. The day I married you I promised you safety, but I'm afraid that is a promise I am finding myself hard to keep now. It pains me to not be able to promise you something that once seemed so simple. Although I cannot promise you your safety, I can promise you that you can trust me. This plan might seem ridiculous, but I have confidence it will be fruitful in one way or another..."_

Claire trailed off as tears filled her eyes.

"What is it, Claire?"

She swallowed and read the next sentence. "'I also know I can trust you, and even if I don't ever get to tell you again, I want you to know... I love you so very, very much, my dear.'"

Holding the note open, Claire sat on the bed behind her, unable to continue on reading.

"Claire, you know him. He always gets himself in and out of these situations. He always figures out how to escape unscathed."

"But why would he leave a note like this? That's what worries me," Claire fretted. "The worst part is, I feel like I shouldn't go. I want to be by his side, but..."

"What is it, Claire?"

"I just have so much hesitation in going. I can't shake the feeling that something terrible will happen if I get involved. Let's wait until tomorrow, and then we will follow his direction in the rest of the note..."

A ringing phone sounded from the living room. Claire sighed. "I suppose that could be him..."

Both women went down to the living room, Claire answered the telephone. "Hello?"

"Claire... Professor Hershel Layton's beloved wife. I wonder if you love him as much as he says you do."

"Swift...?"


	36. Another Threat

**Thank you guys for your kind reviews on the last chapter!**

 **ProfessorSh: Thanks for your review! Glad to see you enjoy it also that it's driving you insane! :P**

 **ImmortalSpuffy202: Thanks for both of your reviews and encouragement! I swear it helps me write faster!**

 **Also everyone, I put up the next chapter of "Who Am I?" a fic about Randall's life in Craggy Dale from the game Miracle Mask.**

* * *

Swift walked into the room where the three Bronevs were. Holding a communication device in his hand, he glared sharply at Layton, who still had quite some pain in his back. "I have someone here you might want to speak to."

"What?!" Hershel feared the worst.

"Here's what I have to tell you, Claire. Come here immediately, and your husband will live. No questions asked. If you don't come... I'm sure you can imagine what might happen to him. He's already been beaten a little more than anyone would have liked."

"... W- What are you talking about?" Claire's soft, muffled voice was heard through the receiver.

"Claire! No!" Hershel started, immense fear taking over, his pain clouding his judgement. "Forget what my note said! Stay away from here!"

"Hershel?! Are you hurt?!" Claire also panicked at hearing Hershel so unsettled.

"Claire, please! Don't come here! He knows abo—"

Swift hung up the phone before Claire could hear him finish his sentence. Hershel hung his head in defeat, knowing Claire probably wasn't persuaded.

"Thank you, Layton. I'm sure you convinced her to come with that desperate sounding voice of yours. Certainly you almost ruined everything... but I wouldn't let that happen after everything I've been through."

"Swift..." Hershel had never felt more desperate to save his wife. "There has to be another way to get help for your daughter..."

Swift's demeanour changed slightly, his daughter being brought up. "I shouldn't be surprised you know about my daughter... but I am even more surprised that you would accuse me of not having throughly and exhaustively searched my options. Of course this is the only way! Hah! It's like you think I want to kill you! No! This is my last opportunity to save her before she dies! I'm very aware this is extremely tragic for you all, and I risk being arrested, but it's worth it..."

"You don't risk being arrested, you will be arrested! Do you really think you can get away with this?!" Desmond exclaimed.

"I suppose you'll never learn not to raise your voice at me. I've already said, I don't have a choice. This is how it must be, unfortunately for you. It is a small price to pay for my daughter's life to be spared."

"How can you be so sure that this will work?" Layton questioned.

"I'm not sure it will work. But I've already explained, this is my only hope left. Now we wait for your wife to get here."

* * *

"What did Swift say?" Emmy questioned.

Placing the phone back on the receiver, Claire closed her eyes. "Hershel is in trouble. Swift said if I don't come he will kill him... but why? He cannot possibly know..."

Emmy's eyebrows furrowed as she put a hand to her chin. "... Know what?"

Claire took a deep breath. "Emmy... I haven't told anyone this yet. Not even Hershel. I wanted him to be the first one to know, but it was too dangerous to tell him, and I can't keep this a secret anymore. It was so hard not to tell him. Emmy... I'm... I'm..." Claire let out a shaky breath as her heart was pounding fiercely. "I'm pregnant."

Emmy's eyes grew wider. "Claire, that's—" She then stopped, realising the situation. "That's not good... I mean, it is good, but..."

"I know..." Claire rubbed her arm nervously. "It's awful because I want to be excited... but I'm just..." Claire swallowed, holding much fear inside. "I'm so frightened... My baby has Hershel's blood... it must be the fourth Bronev Swift is looking for... but how could he know? I told no one."

"I wouldn't jump to conclusions. Perhaps he doesn't know. Maybe he just knows you're a threat to his plans as long as you're free."

"Maybe... but I'm so torn between keeping Hershel safe and keeping my baby safe."

"Who needs you the most right now?" Emmy questioned.

"I believe... I believe Hershel does... but that could change in a matter of seconds."

Emmy's eyes saddened. "I know this is hard. I think the only advice I can give you is to follow what your heart feels, and I'll be here to support you in whatever decision you make. I'll do whatever I can to help."

"Thank you, Emmy..." Claire trailed off, looking distant in her thoughts. Suddenly, her eyes grew big. "I think I've come up with a new plan."


	37. Claire Arrives

**ImmortalSpuffy202: I'm happy you enjoy the quick updates, I wish they were always like that but, alas, writer's block...**

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"If your wife continues to try my patience like this, Layton, you might soon find yourself having more to gripe about!" Swift growled as he tightened the cuffs around Hershel's wrists.

Hershel said nothing but groaned in response. Swift had put him back in the position he was when he was whipped so that when Claire arrived, the first thing she would see was his exposed injuries. Hershel also had been moved to a separate room from Desmond and Bronev. Things were looking truly hopeless, and Hershel had no more energy or emotion to spend on fighting back, and he knew he was completely helpless.

"Don't go anywhere, Layton," Swift laughed sarcastically. "Your wife will be here soon. I must attend a meeting with our best medic. I must be wise and careful about this upcoming procedure and how to go about doing it. It's not like I can just slice through your wife right away, and simply extract the foetus in that way as much as I would like to... I wouldn't want to mix Claire's blood with the infant's," Swift laughed in an evil manner before he left, slamming the door.

As the sound of the slamming door echoed away into silence, the tears Hershel was holding back finally streamed down his face. The pressure put on him to protect his family was too much to handle. Unexpected twists came up too quickly for him to think. He had let emotion cloud his judgement: something he told Luke to never let happen. He always told Luke and himself to keep a clear mind.

Now that he had failed, he realised there was nothing left he could do to save his family. Hershel had promised his brother he would keep him safe from further harm from Targent, but now he only dragged in into more suffering. Flora, he only hoped Targent would leave her alone, but once again she would be left without a family. Emmy and Bronev's lives were in danger as well. But what bothered him most of all was that he had also promised Claire he would keep her safe, but he couldn't protect her either, or now not even their child.

It finally sank in. What he had heard was really true. Claire is pregnant. This was great news, but he couldn't take the unbearable thought of never having the opportunity to know his son or daughter.

After what felt like ages, the door finally squeaked open, and a redheaded individual slowly appeared into the room from behind the door. After closing the door silently, her gaze immediately fastened to Hershel hanging from the wall. Upon seeing the slashes on her husband's back, she gasped.

"Hershel!" Her voice was barely understandable as her emotion choked her voice. She hurried to his side as quickly as her shocked body allowed her.

"W- What has he done to you…?" Claire whispered delicately and gently placed a hand on the side of his back to avoid hurting him more.

"I- I'm fine... it's not as bad as it looks…" Hershel's voice, which was also drained and fragile, did not sound very convincing.

"I told you to be careful!" Claire scolded. Taking a bobby pin out of her wavy red hair pulled back into a low ponytail, Claire began freeing his hands. She blew her bangs away that had fallen into her face when she removed the hair pin. Looking up, she focused on manipulating the lock. Claire eventually heard a click and freed his hands. Hershel began falling to the ground. Claire tried her best to lower him down without hurting him.

"Hershel... I'm so sorry..." Claire lamented, trying her best to keep him sitting up, but also trying to make sure she didn't touch his stinging back.

"This isn't your fault, I'm fine really. It doesn't hurt as much anymore. It only hurts wh—" Hershel caught a breath quickly as Claire's hand came in contact with a wounded area. He fell backwards a bit, supporting himself with his hands behind him. "When there's too much pressure..."

"I'm sorry..." Claire moved her hand to his shoulder. "How did this happen?"

"Claire... I have to tell you something... Swift knows… about the baby."

Claire's eyes widened, then quickly saddened. "No... I should have known I couldn't keep a secret from you..."

"No, I... didn't figure it out... Desmond did," Hershel admitted.

"What?" Claire couldn't believe it.

Hershel smirked. "He is my brother, after all. Don't seem so surprised," Hershel looked down at Claire's abdomen as she was kneeled next to him. His smile grew a little more as he put his hand on her stomach. "Do we really... have a baby?" A short laugh of joy escaped him.

Claire smiled a little too. "Yes. I can hardly believe it myself... I'm sorry I didn't tell you..."

"No, don't be. It was the safe thing to do. I want to be upset because it took me entirely by surprise and I was unable plan accordingly with that information, but even if I had known earlier, I know I would have only let my emotions control me, and I would have made rash decisions. You were wise in hiding it... although I am a bit disappointed that Desmond knew before me," Hershel still smiled.

Claire's smile faded to a solemn look, as did Hershel's shortly after. Claire took a deep breath. "I know this should be exciting... but I'm so scared..."

"I know, Claire... I am too," Hershel admitted solemnly. More tears uncontrollably filled his eyes as he took his hand away from Claire's midriff. "I can't... keep you safe anymore." Closing his eyes and hanging his head, the tears slid down his face.

Claire sighed, lifting her hand to his face to wipe away his tears with her thumb. "Hershel... Our marriage wasn't about you always having the answers and being the strongest and most capable for both of us. Yes, I know you promised to keep me safe, but I also promised the same to you. It was about us being a team. We can't do anything alone, but together we can get through this. I know we can. We have to hope in that."

Just then, the door opened a second time, this time Swift entering. A malicious grin creeped across his face as he closed the door behind him. "Hah! Claire, I suppose Hershel told you that I know you're carrying the fourth Bronev," Swift crossed his arms smugly.

Claire, her head turned towards him, let out a breath. "Yes... I was hoping it would still be a secret when I came here..."

"I'm sorry it has to be this way. Truly, I am," Swift said, not sounding apologetic in the slightest. "I'm glad to see your love for your husband brought you all the way here. The time has finally come..."

"Actually..." Claire spoke up, standing up taking a step closer to him, a little straighter in composure. "There's someone you forgot about. Someone who is a threat to your entire plans right now."

Swift pulled a gun out of his jacket. "I told you not to try anything stupid! I'll kill all of you in an instant if you've brought the police here!"

"No, I wouldn't do that if I were you," Claire warned. "If you kill me, you're going to lose your chance. I'm the only one who can tell them to stop. It's Emmy. Right now, she is on her way to see your daughter. Once she is there, she is going to tell your daughter what your plan is."

"I don't believe you!" Swift spat.

"That's your risk to take," Claire shrugged, as Hershel stood up by her side.

"How could you know where my daughter is at? I will not believe you..." Swift debated.

"It doesn't matter if you believe me or not. That's not going to change the fact that your daughter will know you're a murderer and liar."

"She will not believe the words coming from Emmy. Not without proof."

"Well, knowing Emmy, she always has her camera on hand. I wouldn't doubt she has proof with her," Claire reminded.

"No! She cannot know! She will hate me!" Swift growled, clenching his head in his hands, his gun still in his hand. "She must know I'm only doing this because I love her so much... Altava will only twist my motives and make my daughter believe I am a madman."

"Emmy can be stopped, but you'll have to make up your mind quickly. Will your plan be made known to your daughter? Or will go on and kill us all?"

"You think I'm just going to surrender now, don't you? I'm sorry to disappoint, but I won't be stopped that easily. I will explain everything to my daughter later, if she indeed finds out. I don't truly believe Emmy will find her. Right now is the time to encourage your child to meet the world... a bit early."

Devastation filled Claire's face. "No! Please, there must be another way!"

"Swift, this is utter madness!" Hershel shouted.

"I suppose we should get this over with as soon as possible for both of your sakes," Swift grabbed her by the upper arm and started towards the door, pointing his gun at Hershel to keep him still. Layton froze, wanting nothing else but to intervene for Claire, but one wrong move would be fatal.

Claire fought his grasp, grunting and resist with everything inside her until Swift grabbed her other arm and shook her harshly.

"Swift!" Layton said in the threatening voice, taking a step closer to them.

"Layton, don't come any closer, or I will put a bullet through you!" Swift let go of one of Claire's arms to point the gun back at Hershel. "I will let you and your beloved go safely if you do not cause any trouble! Same goes for you, Mrs. Layton. Come with me now, or I'll see to it that your husband suffers plenty more!" Swift put his finger on the trigger.

Claire stopped fighting, tears now overflowing her eyes as she turned towards Hershel.

Swift held her arm tighter, but let her say one last thing to Layton.

"I'm sorry, Hershel... I tried..." She said, her voice quivering. Since Swift wasn't facing Claire, she immediately smirked a moment and winked at Hershel as if to say, "I've got this under control." Her face quickly went back to acting fearful and greatly distressed.

Hershel knew it wasn't over, but he didn't let any positive emotion come across his face as he realised this. He acted devastated as well. "It's all right, Claire..." He let tears fill his eyes. "We did everything we could... T- This was inevitable," He hung his head in heartache, which wasn't hard for him to act since he had already been through so much pain, but now he had a ray of hope he had to grasp onto.

"Come with me, Claire. I've been waiting too agonisingly long for this."

Both leaving the room, Hershel was left alone in silence once again.


	38. Desmond and Bronev

**ImmortalSpuffy202: I feel as if I'm running out of ways to say thank you to you for your constant support and commitment to this story. I want you to know I truly appreciate it loads! As for other fandoms I am currently into, I would probably have to say Sherlock mainly. I started watching it in March this year and I just finished watching it through for the second time! Love it so much.**

 **ProfessorSh: Thank you so much for your kind and encouraging words in your review! I have no intent to abandon this story, even in the rough times when writer's block takes over. Your review helped me to remember that. It is taking a while, but I plan to do whatever it takes to finish the last few chapters! Thank you for believing in me!**

 **Thank you for your commitment to the story, everyone!**

* * *

Silence plagued the room where Desmond and Bronev were ever since Hershel had left with Swift. Desmond refused to untie Bronev, speak to him, or even acknowledge his presence. Desmond sat on the cement ground, head in his hands, trying to switch off the thoughts of failure and anger.

After about ten minutes, which felt like much longer, Bronev lifted his head. "Desmond—"

"I don't want to hear it! Nothing you say will change my mind about how I feel!" Desmond's emotions burst out all at once.

"Put this pettiness behind you and just listen to me for a moment!"

"'Pettiness?!' You killed those I loved the most!"

"I already told you the truth about that! I never wanted to hurt anyone!"

"You, the man who beforehand was my father, shot my wife!" Desmond shouted, a pang of grief hitting his heart at hearing himself say those words aloud. He lost his wife and daughter that day, and also his father.

"I know," Bronev lowered his voice and hung his head once again. "I know I am the worst father anyone could dread to have. I admit I've done too many wrongs to count. All I ask of you is to just listen to me, please. I beg of you," Bronev implored.

Desmond crossed his arms and refused to look at him.

Bronev continued anyway. "I know how Swift's mind works. He knows you feel defeated. What you are doing now is none of his concern. He's only focused on Claire."

As much as he hated to hear Bronev's voice, Desmond thought about his words. " I suppose you do have a point… but what does it matter? There is nothing left I can do."

"That is what Swift wants you to believe. As long as you've known the methods of Targent, you still never realised it. Targent uses psychology greatly to their advantage. So many times, prisoners have been tricked to believe they could not change their situation, and so they never even attempted to escape. Please, don't make that same mistake…"

In silence, Desmond thought deeply about this.

"You know the trickery of Targent better than anyone. You know you could easily sneak through the hideout and do something to stop this madness."

Desmond still would not answer him.

"Hershel is right… Your greatest weakness is believing these lies. They are holding you back. Could you really live with yourself knowing that you could have done something to save your niece or nephew and you only sat here while they and Claire died?"

Desmond closed his eyes, the truth hitting him too hard.

"You're right... I suppose I can come up with something..." Desmond pondered. Looking around the empty room, he looked for anything he might be able to use. Walking over to Bronev, Desmond untied him, asking, "Do you have anything on you?"

"No... I came straight from the prison..." Bronev reminded.

"Right... but I figured you being part of the Bronev family, you might have had a trick up your sleeve," Desmond rolled his eyes.

"I suppose I lost my touch," Bronev shrugged.

Desmond loosened his hands and Bronev stood up weakly, almost falling. As Desmond continued to think, he looked up at the ceiling and noticed a ventilation shaft. It looked nearly big enough for him to squeeze into.

"Hmm... I suppose Swift wouldn't think of someone climbing through there... Perhaps I'll be able to fit through," Desmond thought, grabbing the chair that Bronev had been sitting on. Taking it underneath the vent, he stood on the chair. Examining the vent, he realised the rusty screws were loose. After loosening the screws entirely, Desmond gently removed the covering, hopped off the chair, and placed the vent on the floor. Stepping back up onto the wobbly chair, he reached up, and grabbed the edge.

As soon as he was about to lift himself up, the door opened suddenly. Desmond turned his head quickly to see a woman in Targent uniform enter.

Dropping his feet back onto the chair, Desmond stepped down to the floor, confused. "Emmy...?"

"Don't worry, this outfit is only for disguise purposes," Emmy suddenly ignored Desmond as her eyes quickly locked on to Bronev.

"Uncle Leon?" Her eyes were filled with concern as she ran over to him. "I was so worried about you, are you all right?" She asked as she embraced him gently, seeing that he was extremely weak and pained. She let out a relieved breath as she clung to him a little tighter.

"Yes... I am now," Bronev's eyes closed and a small smile managed to spread across his drained face as he hugged her back. Although Emmy wasn't his biological daughter, he loved her as if she were. He loved her just as much as he loved his own children, even if he didn't seem to show it often.

"Your timing couldn't have been any worse, Miss Altava," Desmond snarked.

Emmy pulled away from her uncle and glared at Desmond, raising an annoyed eyebrow. "You're welcome. I brought backup," Emmy put her hands on her hips.

"You what?"

"I know what you're thinking, but trust me. With Swift's mind on Claire now, he won't think about anything else but getting the last blood that he needs."

"Won't it be just the opposite? Won't he be on higher alert now?" Desmond questioned.

"No. He thinks he's already won," Emmy shrugged.

Desmond realised it must be true if Emmy and Bronev both had said so. "Fine. Who is this 'backup' you may be referring to?"

"I wouldn't be so worried if I were you. He's just about as sneaky as I am."

"So what is the plan, exactly?" Desmond asked, knowing none of his questions would be answered straightforwardly.

"Claire said she was going to leave the planning up to you. My part in this was to bring backup."

Through the door entered a man in Targent uniform, sunglasses and all. "Nice to meet you all, finally. Emmy has told me so much about you both and the rest of the family," The man's accent told that he was Australian. A bit of his short, light brown hair peeked out from underneath his hat and his facial hair lightly shadowed his face.

"What is going on?" Desmond closed his eyes and put a hand to his face in confusion.

"This is Hugh, but we'll leave introductions for later. Come on, let's go," Emmy slipped a pair of sunglasses on and walked over to Bronev, pulling his arms behind his back and slapping handcuffs around his wrists.

Bronev didn't know how to respond to this. "Emmeline?! What ar—"

"I told you, you both need to trust me, Claire and the baby don't have enough time left for me to explain this to you," Emmy tightened the handcuffs then looked up towards Hugh.

"Take him to Swift. We need a distraction," Emmy advised.

Hugh smirked, grabbing hold of Bronev's handcuffs. "Don't worry, you're in good hands."

Emmy then cast her eyes to Desmond. "It's up to you to save Claire and the baby, Desmond."

Doubt and fear started to build up inside Desmond's heart. Thoughts of previous failures plagued him, and he couldn't add any more failures to the endless list. He was so used to losing that he was too frightened to try again. "But I cannot—"

Pure anger filled Emmy's soul from the frustrating words that had left Desmond's lips. "I don't want to hear any buts or I cannots! You need to stop feeling sorry for yourself or it's going to cost you your entire family! You're lucky enough to have one, so don't ruin this chance! Claire and the baby will die if you don't come up with something. You cando this. You need to do this."

Desmond stared at her, speechless. Taking a deep breath, he sighed and looked at the floor. "You're right. Failure is not an option."

"Yes. Your family needs you desperately, Desmond. I'll do whatever I can to help you, but it's all up to you now."

"Right..." Desmond lifted his head and quickly closed his eyes, picturing different ways he could rescue Hershel, Claire, and the baby. After running a few scenarios through his mind, his eyes shot open. "Let's go. I have an idea."


	39. Rescue

**Shoutout to ImmortalSpuffy202 and Yoshi-G-teh-First for your kind reviews and many thanks for readng!**

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Swift paced back and forth in the room where he had been keeping Claire. The sound of his footsteps ceased as he thought deeply and turned to Claire, who was in a restrained to an uncomfortable hospital like bed. Her breathing was slightly quicker than normal for fear of what might happen if Desmond or Emmy weren't able to save her baby.

"Once the medics arrive with the necessary materials for this procedure, I will finally obtain all four of the Bronev bloods at last," Swift continued as if he needed to remind himself out loud why he must do this. "It is my daughter's only hope."

"Swift," Claire started, trying to make her voice as strong as possible. "Your daughter is not going to be able to live her life peaceably if she knows that multiple people had to be killed for her to survive. I don't know much about your daughter, but I know that she has human moral. Everyone does. She will feel as if she is the one who murdered them."

"No, she won't! She will never have to know!"

"But there has to be another way to get her the help she needs!"

"If there really was another way, I would not have to do this, but I've exhausted every other option. This is the only way. However, that's besides the point, I did not give you permission to speak. I don't want to hear anything else out of you."

Claire took no heed to his warning. "Emmy will not hesitate to tell her the truth!" Claire reminded.

"You are tempting me to finish you off as well!"

"I know you're planning on killing us all regardless. Why would you let us walk out of here unharmed when we all are witnesses to your crimes?"

"I've heard enough out of you! I cannot tolerate your questions any longer. There are plenty of guards outside this door until the medics arrive. I must take my leave and go make sure my other prisoners are behaving."

Shortly, Swift left the room, and three medics entered. Claire knew that this was risky, but it was her last hope. She had to do whatever it took to save her husband and her child, and she prayed that all lives would be spared in this time of uncertainty. As the medics prepared themselves to induce Claire's labour, her heart pounded faster, and her breathing was uneven, not knowing if Desmond would make it in time. The baby was too young to survive outside of the womb. Both her and her baby's life were in Desmond's hands now. She had enough faith in him to hold back her tears and be brave, knowing her newfound brother would find his strength to come rescue her.

The leader of the medics prepared an IV that contained a drug strong enough to induce Claire into labour, although the child she carried was still extremely young and by no means ready to be born. As he readied himself to insert the IV, Claire closed her eyes, every muscle in her body tensing. Even the muscles in her chest were so tight she could scarcely breathe. In each quick breath she was able to take, panicked sounds of anxiety escaped her throat as the needle approached her. In a flash, the tallest medic quickly put the chief medic into a headlock and began pulling him away from Claire.

The tension fell from Claire's body as she gasped for breath. She watched as the assistant medic slammed the leader's chest into the wall and twisted his arm behind him.

"Where is Swift's daughter?!" The familiar voice asked, pulling his surgical mask below his chin, revealing a recognisable face.

"Desmond!" Claire exclaimed quietly.

"I- I don't know! I swear I don't— Agh!" The medic groaned as Desmond pushed his arm into his back more. The third medic by Desmond's side took off her surgical mask and cap, freeing her brown wavy hair: it was Emmy.

"I think you do," Desmond growled lowly.

"Alright! All I know that she is here somewhere!" He admitted.

"If you're really the head medic here at this base, you would know exactly where she is. After all, she is your patient," Desmond turned to Emmy. "Take him with you. He will show you where she is."

"He seems rather opposed to the idea," Emmy pointed out as she placed her Targent sunglasses and hat back on and taking off the scrubs she wore over her original disguise.

"Take this, I found this in the room we were in earlier," Desmond handed her a syringe. He then turned to the medic. "I'm sure you're familiar with this drug, Targent scum," Desmond whispered. "So don't try anything funny!"

The medic only growled back as Emmy took control over him and left the room with him. Desmond turned around quickly seeing Claire, the fear starting to fade from her worried eyes. He hurried to her side as he threw off his medical disguise. He quickly began loosening the restraints around her.

"Claire... Are you alright?" As Desmond loosed the last restraint, Claire sprung up and embraced Desmond tightly.

Claire breathed out into his shoulder in relief. "I was starting to doubt if you were going to come to my rescue or not,"

Desmond smiled, lifting his arms to embrace her back. "You should have more faith, then," Desmond joked. "I did make a promise, after all. I told you I would do whatever I could to protect you and Hershel. But we're not quite out of the woods yet. We still need to find Swift's daughter so that Swift will free Hershel."

"I'm not quite sure what you mean by that... but I trust you know what you're doing," Claire reassured his plan.

"Swift said he was going to check on his other prisoners. That should buy us a bit of time, as long as he doesn't try to find me first. I'm going to need your help, Claire. Swift is in for a surprise."


	40. Victoria

**ImmortalSpuffy202: Hope this story isn't giving you any grey hair from the stress and suspense!**

 **Yoshi-G-teh-First: Thanks so much for your encouragement!**

 **CrossoverLover2013: Thanks so much for following and favouriting me and my story!**

 **Moiloru: Thanks for following!**

* * *

As Swift hurried to check on his captives, he came to a sudden stop when he turned a corner. There stood a Targent agent with Bronev.

"What are you doing with my prisoner?" Swift demanded to know.

"Uh—" Hugh excused. "Another agent informed me that you commanded Bronev to be brought to you. Is that not true?"

"No... something dodgy is going on here..." Swift put a hand to his chin, not trusting this agent before him. "Take off your sunglasses."

Hesitantly, Hugh reached up to his face, slowly removing his sunglasses.

Swift raised an eyebrow. "I don't know who you are, but you are definitely not one of my men. The only explanation is that you are conniving with the Bronev brothers. Come with me, both of you."

"Or what?" Hugh smirked, letting Bronev go, getting in position to fight Swift.

"Or else," Swift smirked back, pulling a gun out from his jacket, pointing it at Bronev.

Hugh tensed. "Fine..." Raising his hands in defeat and surrender, Hugh hoped with all his might that Desmond could figure out how to fix this.

* * *

Emmy climbed the stairs to her final destination. The upper level she had reached felt more welcoming, much more like a home. She had discovered this upper level was where Swift lived with his daughter. Opening a squeaky wooden door, Emmy found a large room. One of the walls was lined with bookshelves that were packed full of books. A massive vanity and wardrobe were along the other side of the room. In the middle of the room sat a grandiose king size bed, canopy and all, overflowing with cream coloured, soft duvets and pillows. The sound of wind blew through the half opened window, causing the sheer vanilla curtains to blow in the breeze. Enveloped in the centre of the bed was a young woman, sickly and pale. Her blond shoulder length hair surrounded her soft face.

"Who's there?" The weak voice asked, not bothering to open her eyes.

"It's good to see you too, Victoria," Emmy put her hands on her hips, still standing in the doorway.

Tori's eyes shot open as she gasped. The woman sat up, taking a closer look at her visitor. "Emmy...?! What are you—"

"No time to explain," Emmy marched into the room to Tori's bedside. "Come with me."

"My, you really are here..." The shock quickly left Tori's eyes and changed to a dubious look. "How do I know this isn't just another one of your tiring games, Emmeline?" Tori questioned.

"You'll see what I'm on about soon. Just come with me. I need your help."

"Why should I help you? What's in it for me?" Tori still wasn't buying into Emmy's game.

"Perhaps I just need to word it differently. Your father needs you," Emmy clarified.

"What is he up to now?" Tori sighed.

"Enough of your questions. If you won't come willingly, I'll have to take you with me... forcefully," Emmy threatened.

"I wish I could still say I could take you in a fight... but sadly my strength is failing greatly. Fine. I'll go with you, but only because I have little choice." Tori threw the thick bed covers to the end of the bed. Sliding to the edge of the bed slowly, Tori shuffled her feet off the edge of the bed. She grabbed a cane that sat at her bedside and forced a laugh. "Hah. Twenty years of age and I already need this. Isn't it pitiful? I have this room of my own, filled with expensive and luxurious items of comfort and yet no amount of my father's doting on me will ever cure me."

Emmy didn't know how to respond. Swift wasn't joking. She really was dying.

"Tori... I am sorry life has dealt you this cruel hand. No one should be terminally ill, especially people as young as us who should have a bright future ahead."

"Don't remind me!" Tori snapped.

"I wish there was something I could do, really. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I know we didn't get along as well as we should have when we were younger, and you owe me absolutely nothing; but please listen. Your father needs you to stay strong. You are all he has left, and he is desperately trying to find a way to cure you. He cannot think straight. He needs you, Tori. Even if you cannot be strong physically, I know you have it in you to stay strong emotionally." Emmy took a step closer to her and put a hand on her shoulder. "Please."

Tori thought in silence as she looked at the floor. "I don't understand this nor do I trust you, but I'm bored. I'd rather like to be entertained for once. Surprise me, Altava."

Emmy's smile grew as she took her hand off her shoulder. "Brilliant. I wasn't looking forward to dragging you there, so it's great to see you have a change of heart. Follow me."

Tori rolled her eyes as she stood up slowly and hobbled behind her. "As bold as ever, I see," Tori let out a disgusted breath. "I wish I could say I missed you, but that would be a lie."


	41. The Final Confrontation

**ImmortalSpuffy202: Time to get excited! The conclusion will be here soon!**

 **CrossoverLover2013: So happy to be able to put some suspense in your life! :p**

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* * *

Desmond and Claire hurried to the room where Hershel had been. Hearts pounding, they both hoped that he was not harmed any further as they got closer to the room where they believed he was still being kept. Coming to a stop, they took one glance at each other, then Desmond opened the door. As soon as Desmond opened the door, he almost regretted having opened it.

Hershel was on his knees, being held at gunpoint by Swift, as was Bronev and Hugh by other agents. Dread filled Desmond and Claire's stomachs at the sight. Swift held Hershel's arms behind his back with one hand, and held the gun steady to Hershel's side with the other. Hershel grimaced in discomfort as the cold, hard tip of the gun dug into his ribs. Just as they had feared, Hershel appeared to have been beaten further. His breathing was heavy and laboured, and his posture was stiff and pained. Although Hershel didn't seem to be as severely beaten as Desmond had been a few months prior, he still appeared to be in considerable pain.

The desperation in Desmond's eyes immediately changed into spite. "SWIFT!" Descole exploded violently. His pupils narrowed as uncontrollable rage overflowed his soul. Looking around, he had to find something or someone to take his fury out on. Fear filled Claire as Descole's resentful gaze locked onto her. Descole rushed towards her.

"Desmond, no!" Claire screamed right before he put her in a headlock. Grasping Descole's arm, Claire tried to loosen his vicelike grip. "Please, Desmond, this isn't you! You need to stop—" Claire was unable to speak as he tightened his hold around her neck.

"Desmond isn't interested in being told who he is and isn't right now, as far as I'm concerned, he's a failure for letting this be the last resort! I truly don't want to do this to you, my dear sister in law, but Swift will do anything to save you, I'm sure."

"Descole, enough!" Hershel struggled, watching in horror as his brother strangled his wife. "Free my wife and my brother! They have done nothing to you! They do not deserve this punishm—"

Hershel's breath was taken away as Swift pushed him to the floor. "Shut up, Layton, I'm rather enjoying this. This is the part where it gets good."

"You fool, Swift! Have you already forgotten that Claire holds the last Bronev blood? It would be a shame if I were to kill her."

"You wouldn't kill her," Swift ridiculed.

Tears streamed down Claire's face as she gasped for air, tugging Descole's arm. Her glance was now on Hershel, who was being held to the ground by Swift's foot.

The anger in Descole's voice grew deeper from Swift's remark. "Desmond perhaps wouldn't. He doesn't have the guts to kill. But you easily forget how different he and I are. You underestimate me."

"And you easily forget what I can do to control you. You underestimate me as well," Swift smirked, stepping with more pressure onto Hershel's sliced back, provoking a sharp cry from Hershel.

Descole immediately let Claire go, causing her to lightheadedly fall to her knees as she coughed for oxygen.

The fury still stayed present in Descole's eyes: Desmond was not coming back any time soon.

Swift laughed, proud of the place of control he currently held. Once Claire had caught her breath, she crawled over to Hershel, who was still underneath Swift's foot in agony, but with less pressure. Swift let her stay by his side as he looked up at Descole. "Perhaps Descole and Desmond are quite different, but the one thing you two have in common is how you care for your brother. As long as I have him, I can make you do anything I want. I quite like having puppets that dance to my tune. I have all of the Bronev bloods and even though you tried to stop me from getting the last one, you still failed. What will you do now, Descole? I'll always be one step ahead of you."

"Father...?"

Swift froze as he heard his daughter's sweet voice. A few footsteps and clicks of her walking stick were heard before her fragile, thin figure appeared around the corner of the open door. Brushing a piece of blond hair behind her ear, confusion and fear spread around her face as she saw Bronev and Hugh being held at gunpoint, and Hershel being pinned to the floor.

"Father, what are you doing?"

Swift, still frozen, realised what Claire had told him was true, Emmy had told his daughter all about his plan.

"Dearest Victoria..." Swift lifted his foot off of Hershel. Claire immediately helped him to sit up.

"This isn't any of your concern," Swift continued. "You need to go lie down and rest."

"No, Father!" Victoria slammed the end of her walking stick into the ground. "Stop treating me like a little girl. Emmy told me what you're up to. At first I didn't believe her, but now I see she was telling me the truth. You really have lost it this time. You promised me Targent was going to be the way it used to be... without all of the violence and malice. Just a peaceful group of archaeologists research the Azran."

"You don't understand! I'm sure Emmy didn't tell you why I'm doing this! This is the only way we can cure you, to unlock the Azran's power!"

"Father, this is insane!" Tori's voice grew weak. "There is no cure for me! Don't you remember when the Azran Legacy was unleashed? There was no gift to mankind, only ruin! Killing this family will not give you what you want. You know that, and yet still you'd rather kill people, taking out your anger on them rather than spend your time with your own daughter... D- Did you ever ask me once what I wanted? No. For your information, I just wanted to spend time with you. That's all. But I see your work of discovering Azran treasure is more important to you than I am. And now you're going to go to prison for all of this and I'm going to die alone."

"I'm not going to prison, and you're not going to die. Just wait. You'll see that the Azran's power will be worth it this time. Claire holds a child with the final blood that is needed," Swift put his gun towards Claire. "If she is dead, it will be much simpler to obtain it."

"Father, you're even worse at coping with the fact I'm going to die than I—" A shriek escaped Tori's lips as she was restrained by Descole. Her cane slipped from her hand, loudly hitting the floor.

Descole pulled a gun from his suit jacket and placed it firmly to the side of Tori's head. "How the tables have turned, Swift! Now you will know what it feels like to play the part of the puppet. Leave Claire alone. Let us all go, or I'll kill her."

"You wouldn't," Swift growled.

"Actually, I would. In fact, I'm desperate to kill this girl who has almost cost me my brother and his family. Don't make me prove it," Descole smirked evilly.

"Father, this is what you've been asking for, isn't it? A chance for someone to get rid of me, your burden?" Tori said calmly, even under gunpoint. Having been a target many times before, she knew her father wouldn't let her die. However, she did want him to regret his decisions. "Obviously, I don't fear death. Death and I have had a few distant conversations here and there, but not face to face yet. Actually, we're starting to become good friends, Death and I. Soon I'll get to meet him in person. I bet you're eager for me to meet him as well, one less burden on your mind," Tori rolled her green eyes.

Swift shot a sharp glare at her. "Don't say such ludicrous things, Victoria! What must I do to prove to you that all my hard work is all for you? Don't answer that. We haven't the time. You'll understand soon enough," Swift looked back at Descole and thought about his options. "So, Descole, if I decide to let all of you go, my Victoria will pass away, and I will be arrested. If I resist and you do indeed shoot her, then she will be dead also. Perhaps you don't shoot her. Then I will still be in control of this situation."

"I wouldn't count on that last scenario," Descole pressed the gun tip closer against Tori's head.

"Father... this really is about you winning, isn't it?" Tori's heart filled with sadness at her father's indifference.

"Descole, don't do this!" Hershel persuaded. "Murder is never the answer. Desmond is who we need right now. Please, I beg of you, let him come back."

"Pfah!" Descole spat. "Sycamore is weak, he could never save you!"

"You're mistaken," Hershel denied. "He has lost everything, and yet he still hopes. Hope is the only thing keeping him alive. Even when hope is lost, deep down he knows it's not over and that he can find hope again. He's the strongest person I know, and he is who we need right now," Hershel pleaded.

After a few seconds of Descole holding Tori still at gunpoint, the harshness left his face and his pupils dilated, letting Tori free. Her balance became shaky as he let her go, and Desmond was silent. He stood still as he took in his surroundings through a different perspective. A bit of remorse showed on his face as he saw the gun in his hand, realising what he had been doing. He finally spoke. "I must admit, you appear to have won, Swift. I started to doubt myself, and so Descole made an appearance, but I suppose Descole actually helped in some ways, he did aid in the role of distracting," Desmond put the gun back in his suit jacket.

"What are you talking about?! I'm dead sick of all this going back and forth!" Swift lost total control over himself now that his daughter had been involved and his emotions had been trifled with. "Someone is going to die, and no one can stop me!"

Hershel groaned as Swift pulled him to his feet and put the gun to his side again.

"Hershel!" Claire jumped up, ready to intervene, grabbing her husband's arm.

At the same time as this happened, Emmy appeared at the door with the police behind her, including Grosky.

With the last of his strength, Bronev flew to his feet, taking the agent by surprise who had been restraining him, and knocked Hershel and Claire out of the way right as the shot was fired.

The sound of the bullet leaving the gun echoed away as Bronev hit the floor, grasping his chest.

"UNCLE LEON!" Emmy screamed, freezing in her footsteps as Grosky flew past her, apprehending Swift before he could further harm anyone. Emmy somehow found the strength to run to Bronev's side as he lay on the floor. She immediately located where he had been shot and applied pressure to stop the bleeding. Leon groaned in pain.

Desmond could scarcely breath as his eyes locked onto his dying father on the ground. Emmy kept reassuring him, telling him the medics would arrive there soon. She told him she had called in case anything were to happen.

Either the shot from the gun had temporarily taken Desmond's sense of hearing, or the shock caused everything to move slower than it seemed while Swift and the other agents were being apprehended. Hershel and Claire joined Emmy next to Bronev, but Desmond couldn't move. This man, no matter what he had done in the past, just saved his brother's life. And it very well may have cost him his own. Bronev put his son's life, before his own. This was truly Leon Bronev, Hershel and Theodore's father, not the leader of Targent.

"Father, why?" Tori's distinct voice drew Desmond back to reality. "Why are you like this...?" Tori hung her head as Grosky escorted Swift out of the room.

Desmond knelt and picked up her walking stick and gave it back to Tori. "I'm sorry... for whatever I did to you and for all of this. I know what it's like to be disappointed by your father..."

Tori took her cane, helping her to be a bit more stable. "I suppose there's nothing to do about it now... I'm sorry about your father, too. He is a good man deep down from what Emmy had told me. He had his bad moments, but then again we all have. I guess he and my father had that in common, they let their goals become too important to them."

Desmond nodded, looking back at the group by Bronev, feeling tremendous guilt for treating him so poorly. Bronev really wanted to be a good man, yet he had little opportunity to prove it. "Well, it appears my father's goals have changed..."

"I hope everything is all right with your family. I know my time is almost over, I've come to terms with that fact. I would hate if my father had ruined your happiness for my sake."

Hugh had joined the group by Bronev, standing behind Emmy.

"Uncle, just hang on, you're going to be fine," Emmy said, tears filling her eyes as reality hit her. He might not survive this. As the medics finally arrived, they took Emmy's place. As soon as Emmy stood up, Hugh embraced her as she still tried to hide her tears. Bronev was placed on a stretcher quickly, then taken quickly out of the room.

Claire and Hershel embraced each other relieved that the worst of this was over, but still much tension filled the air with the question: would Bronev survive?


	42. Forgiveness

**Yoshi-G-teh-First: Thanks for your review! It helped motivate me to write this chapter quicker! :D**

 **CrossoverLover2013: Glad to hear you're on the edge of your seat! Enjoy!**

 **ImmortalSpuffy202: I was just reading some of your old reviews and I realised I didn't respond to you about my Hershel OTP. I definitely am Claire and Hershel all the way!**

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It felt like millennia since the group had arrived at the emergency room as they waited to hear if Bronev was going to pull through. Desmond, Emmy, Hugh, and Tori all waited in suspense. Claire was with Hershel, who was currently being examined to make sure he wasn't seriously injured, and that everything would heal properly on its own.

Emmy couldn't sit still. She was pacing back and forth as Hugh kept apologising to her for what had happened.

"Hugh, this isn't your fault," Emmy stopped pacing to face him. "Desmond and I came up with a plan, and I told you to take Uncle Leon to Swift. If it's anyone's fault, it's mine."

"If you won't let me take the blame, then don't blame yourself either, Emmy," Hugh stood up, walking closer to her to comfort her.

Tori sat speechless, unsure of how to be of help in this situation. Next to her sat Desmond, who ignored their self blame; he was too busy saying similar things, but to himself. An extreme amount of guilt overwhelmed him from the way he had treated Bronev. The terrible things he had thought about Bronev and even the things he had said directly to him ran through his mind.

 **"** **The disgusting man is twisted and evil."**

 _ **"I hate you more than words can describe..."**_

 _ **"I want you to rot and die alone in your miserable prison cell..."**_

 _ **"All you've ever done is bring me pain and misery!"**_

 _ **"You deserve every ounce of guilt that you feel! You killed my wife and daughter!"**_

Desmond knew there were many other times he made it quite clear how much he despised him. Sycamore thought of what it would feel like to hear these words come from his daughter if she were still alive for all the hurt he had caused people as Descole. It wouldn't just hurt, those words would cut deeper than any whip ever could. The hateful words would be a blow harder than a kick, break deeper than ribs. They would break the heart.

Hershel and Emmy had told Desmond to give Bronev a second chance, but he had let anger blind him from the truth. The truth was that Bronev deeply regretted everything that he had done, and that he had changed. That should have been enough for Desmond, but he needed proof. "Actions speak louder than words," Desmond had thought, but Desmond had more than enough proof now that Bronev had risked his life for Hershel.

Emmy and Hershel both had done what they could to convince Desmond to forgive Bronev. Desmond was now more than ready to forgive Bronev, but it wasn't because Hershel and Emmy wanted him to. It was because he truly wanted to. He needed to, or the guilt would haunt him the rest of his life. He not only needed to forgive him, but he was desperate to ask for forgiveness as well for all the hurtful things he had said to him.

Tori sighed loudly. "Emmy, Hugh, stop blaming yourselves, this is neither of your faults," Tori tried to persuade.

"She's right," Desmond interjected. "Over half of the damage done to Bronev is my own fault."

Emmy was going to try to tell him otherwise. "Desmond—"

"Emmy, no. It's true. I've put him, my own father, through hell because I didn't believe it was actually him. I believed the lie that he was still evil and there was nothing more to him. But he obviously proved today that he has so much kindness to give. I know that it's hard, so hard to fight my dark side inside of me, and why wouldn't it be the same for him? Deep down, this man is really my father, and yet I said so many horrible, cruel things to him. The dreadful words wouldn't have mattered as much coming from someone else, but because I'm his son, it must have hurt him tremendously every time... I knew that, and yet I still didn't care. I wanted him to suffer like he made me suffer, and I got what I wished for... yet it didn't bring the satisfaction I thought it would. Only guilt and regret. Emmy, I'm so sorry..." Desmond hung his head, unable to face what appeared to be the truth.

Emmy turned to face him, almost angry with him. "Desmond, stop! This is not—" Emmy cut her sentence short as a male nurse approached them.

The nurse paused a moment, reading all of their worried faces as he started to speak slowly. "The bullet has been extracted, but he's endured much trauma... He's not hanging on by much. He's pleading to see two of you, Desmond and Emmy. I don't believe he has much time left."

Everyone's countenance fell, especially Emmy's and Desmond's.

"I'm sorry, we've done all we can. He's just too weak," The nurse said sadly.

Following the nurse, Desmond and Emmy didn't say a word to each other as they were being led to the room. The nurse showed them where he was, and Emmy wasted no time in opening the door, unwilling to waste any precious time with her Uncle. Upon entering the room, Emmy and Desmond saw Bronev, weak and feeble, fighting just to breath normally. A pang of sadness overwhelmed Desmond as he saw his dying father.

"Uncle Leon..." Tears instantly filled Emmy's eyes as she seated herself next to his bedside, gripping his hand gently.

"Emmeline..." Bronev uttered. "Please, let me speak with Desmond first," Bronev turned his head to his right side where Desmond was sitting.

"Desmond... I didn't do this so that you would forgive me..."

"I know," Desmond choked, trying his hardest to keep a strong voice. "I know your actions came from a place of kindness, not wrong motives. No one would have been able to act so quickly if it were otherwise. It was an act straight from your heart. I'm so sorry it cost you everything for me to finally wake up and see that you are not the leader of Targent anymore... you're my father. I was so daft to not realise sooner. I forgive you, not because you saved my brother's life, but because I know you're truly a good person, Father," A tear slid down Desmond's cheek as he felt like a child again, being able to call this man father.

A small smile spread across Bronev's face at hearing his son call him father again.

"I'm now the one asking you for forgiveness... I hurt you so much... and yet you still saved my brother," Desmond hung his head, closing his eyes. "I didn't deserve that kindness from you. Not in the slightest."

"I would have done the same for you, my son," Bronev admitted, his voicing starting to get slower as he spoke. "No amount... of your hurtful words towards me, although they did indeed hurt so deeply... would ever have caused me... to stop... loving you as my son. I didn't hold it against you... I forgive you, Son."

Desmond nodded, still hanging his head as the grief gripped his heart with a strong hold. It hurt intensely. Then he knew it was because of love. Looking back up, Desmond took Leon's hand with a reassuring grip, feeling comforted by his father's warmth.

"Emmeline... please forgive me... for becoming such a monster after I became so obsessed with the Azran... I didn't realise I was... so obsessed at the time... It came between our relationship..."

"Forget it, Uncle Leon..." Emmy's voice cracked, her sorrow stealing her voice. "I know I have. All I can think about are the happy moments we shared. You made me the happiest girl alive so many times," Emmy tried to smile through her tears. "You know I think of you as a father, don't you?"

"I hoped you did... I think of you... as my daughter... I can now die... a happy man... now that you've both forgiven me..." Bronev began to close his eyes.

"No! Uncle Leon, please don't leave us!" Emmy begged, her tears impossible to keep back any longer. "Y- You're strong... please, hang on, for me."

"Don't be sad, Emmeline... shortly... I'll be with... my love... Rachel..." Bronev said feebly but happily.

Emmy held his hand tighter, tears overflowing her eyes. "But I- I'll miss you so much. And you hadn't the chance to meet Hugh yet. You can't leave me yet..."

Bronev smiled weakly with the last of his strength. "I'll... miss you... as well... Hugh and I got to speak shortly... I wish you both happiness together... He is very fond of you. We'll meet again one day... my dear daughter... and my dear son... I know we..." His heavy eyes closed as his last breath escaped him before he could finish.

"Uncle Leon?! Uncle Leon, can you hear me?!" Emmy panicked, shaking him. More tears rolled down her face as she closed her eyes. Burying her face into his arm, Emmy let her tears free.

Time seemed to freeze again for Desmond. So many thoughts had been plaguing his mind before, but now everything seemed still in this moment. There was a certain peace in the air along with the sorrow that Desmond couldn't explain if he tried.

In the dimly lit room there was a sense of closure, which Desmond wasn't used to. Normally every conflict in his life was met with an abrupt end, never to be discussed again. It felt peaceful to have everything resolved. There was no other word to describe it. Yet at the same time, the sound of Emmy's tears left an immense sorrow in the atmosphere. Everything had finally been unravelled and concluded, but it only resulted in more loss.

Raymond and Bronev had died, many people had been hurt, Swift had gone to prison, and Tori was ill. Those were the facts that could not be changed, but it wasn't the time to dwell on what could have been done differently. Hershel, Claire, Flora, and the baby were safe, and that was really what mattered most.

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 **(THERE WILL BE ANOTHER CHAPTER! Just when you thought it was over... *evil laugh*)**


	43. Baby Layton

**ImmortalSpuffy202: How many times have you come close to screaming in the course of this fanfic? :p ;) Also enjoy this chapter! It's not the last one yet, but I'm getting there!**

 **CrossoverLover2013: Thanks so much for your encouraging review! Hope you enjoy this chapter!**

 **Yoshi-G-teh-First: I laughed maniacally when I read your review about not needing your heart. Whenever you need it shattered in a million pieces again, you know who to call!**

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"Desmond, I think it's time."

Desmond stopped writing, his eyes growing wide. A second passed before his grip on the pencil was lost, rolling onto the desk before clinking onto the floor. He knew exactly what these rushed, words from Claire's lips meant. He had been dreading hearing them in the upcoming months of her pregnancy, and somehow he knew he was going to be the one to hear those words. Why him? Why now? Why not his brother Hershel later tonight when they were all home? After all, it was Hershel's child. But of course, the odds were against Desmond. Nowadays, Desmond spent more time around Claire than Hershel did. Sycamore had begun working again, as life at home had become too slow for him. Needing a break from archaeology, he decided to take up a different angle as a researcher, as a scientist. Claire was able to find him a perfect place to work in the lab, and he was clearly qualified to work alongside Claire and the other researchers there. In this moment, however, Desmond almost regretted taking up this career. His eyes still wide, he finally turned in his seat and faced her. She stood stiffly in the doorway of his research room.

"You mean... it's really time?"

"Yes, Desmond. It's really time," Claire's dark eyes were filled with complete seriousness as her hand lay tensely on her perfectly rounded belly.

"Are you sure? This is only your seventh month, isn't it?" Desmond asked yet again.

"Of course, I'm not completely sure, Desmond, but I'm pretty sure. I'm fairly certain my water broke, and I've been having frequent contractions and they're getting stronger each time."

Desmond stood from his desk quickly, a sigh escaping him as he continued to move quickly, nearly tripping over the revolving office chair he had just rose from, causing it to spin around. "Okay, let's just stay calm."

Claire's calm, hurried demeanour did not change. She only raised an eyebrow at Desmond's behaviour.

Noticing that Claire was already calm, Desmond laughed nervously. "You're right. There's nothing to be worried about. I've done this once before, so I actually am a bit more experienced than the first time. Of course, that was different because it was my own child. When my wife told me it was time, I took her to the hospital, but it was actually a false alarm the first time, so—"

"Desmond, enough! You can tell me about that later! Just get me to the hospital, would you? What would your brother think if I ended up having the baby here at the lab, or worse yet, in the car on the way to the hospital!"

"Fine, fine, let's go," Desmond grabbed his car keys off of his desk before meeting her at the doorway. As soon as Claire turned to leave, she gasped in pain as another contraction hit her. Grimacing and hunching forward, Claire slowly tried to start walking again.

"Claire," Desmond put his hand on her shoulder. "Is there anything I can do for you?"

Claire reached up and grabbed his shoulder tightly to stop herself from falling forward further. "Just help me—" Claire paused again as her muscles tightened and her breath was taken from her. "Help me get to the car."

As Desmond gently assisted Claire, the pair made their way out of the research facility, everyone else in their path wishing them luck as they departed.

Taking little notice of the other scientists, Desmond's mind was racing faster than he could keep up with.

It was time. It really was time.

Hershel was going to be a father.

Desmond himself was going to be an uncle.

Again.

Desmond was just as much an uncle to Flora as this child would be, but this time was different. Flora had, spur of the moment, decided she was going to be referred to as Desmond's niece. With this child, Desmond would get to watch this one grow up, and be an influence in their younger years, if Hershel would allow it. Perhaps since it was his biological niece or nephew, perhaps they would even resemble Desmond, if he got lucky. Desmond didn't expect to move out anytime soon; anywhere else would be too lonely without his wife, daughter, or Raymond. Desmond had relied on Raymond for much of his life, even for simple things such as cooking. He wasn't actually sure if he could survive on his own, as pitiful as it sounded for someone in their forties. Therefore, he would continue staying with the Layton's as long as he was allowed. But perhaps with this new child, they were going to need more space. Perhaps he would get kicked out to fend for himself...

Before Desmond knew it, they were outside in front of his black, classy car, helping Claire inside. Desmond jumped into the driver's seat, immediately fidgeting to get the key into the ignition. As finally shoved the keys in correctly, he started up the engine. Another random worrying thought crossed his mind before he started driving. "What about Hershel? How do we contact—"

"Desmond!" Claire exploded, desperation in her eyes. "You're supposed to be driving me to the hospital, not driving me mad! Let's worry about Hershel later, we don't even know for sure if it's really time for the baby to be—" Claire cried out as she contorted in anguish. Gripping the side of the door, she glared sharply at Desmond, breathing out through clenched teeth. "It's definitely time. Just. Drive." Claire's face seemed to match the colour of her hair in this moment.

Desmond, knowing it was unwise to test a pregnant woman's patience (especially one in labour), hastily put the car into gear and backed up. Right now, he wished he had more automobile driving experience as well. Flying the Bostonius was much more natural to him. He hadn't needed to drive much in his lifetime because of Raymond as well. These past couple months he had been driving a lot more, which was good practice, but all of his past knowledge and experience seemed to leave him in a flash as he tried to navigate through London's busy streets. Turning a corner a bit too sharply, Desmond hit the street curb, shaking the whole car and upsetting Claire further.

"Well, I was trying my best to stay calm, but you're making that quite difficult, Desmond!" Claire exasperatedly sighed.

Desmond regained control on the road, then turned a split second to see how quickly Claire's emotions changed. She went from angry to almost in tears. Looking back at the road, he let out a breath. "I apologise, Claire... I'm sorry that I'm stressed too. I know this isn't about me, but I'm doing my best to do what I can for you, without losing control and becoming Descole,"

"To be completely honest with you, Desm—" Another scream escaped Claire's lungs, her anger seeming to return. "I think I could take Descole right now, we actually might get along currently!"

Desmond couldn't tell if she was serious or not, seeing as the past few months Claire seemed to before more comfortable with Descole's few random appearances that had been less violent than the first times. Desmond still wasn't sure why he couldn't seem to control when Descole appeared, but he knew Descole had changed ever since the day Swift had been arrested. Descole wouldn't kill, no matter how angry he was.

"Well that's good to hear, because I never know when he's going to come for a visit..." Desmond gripped the wheel tighter.

The sound of traffic and Claire's heavy breathing was all that could be heard over the next couple of seconds, but it wasn't long before another piercing cry erupted from Claire. "Desmond, I- I can't—"

"Yes you can, Claire! You're strong. Just hang on, we'll be at the hospital soon," Desmond reassured.

"Desmond, I don't think it's going to be soon enough," Claire panicked, grasping the door handle so tightly Desmond selfishly feared the interior of his car would be destroyed by the end of this.

"... What do you mean?" Desmond's heart started pounding even faster than it already was.

"Stop the car! I feel the head coming!"

Desmond's heart rate skyrocketed, reaching a new level as his pupils constricted. His voice grew deep. "You couldn't just wait a little longer, could you?"

"Descole, it's not like I can decide that! Pull over. Now!" Claire screamed.

"Fine!" Descole slammed his foot on the breaks. Claire braced herself as neither of them had buckled their seatbelts in the rush to get the hospital. The car screeched to a stop.

~•~•~

Desmond shot up, sitting in darkness, dripping with perspiration, his heart pounding so fiercely as if it would burst from his chest. Desmond's lungs ached from a lack of oxygen because of his uneven, shallow breaths. After inhaling sharply, Desmond let out a sigh. It was only a dream... Except most of it really happened just this past week.

Claire had delivered her baby a week ago, and Desmond had escorted her from the lab to the hospital, but in real life, they made it to the hospital in time, as did Hershel in time for the baby to be born. Descole had made an appearance during Claire's labour, and Desmond didn't come back until the child had been born. To everyone's joy, they finally knew the baby's gender. Claire and Hershel had waited until birth for it to be revealed. It was a boy. Their joy lasted for about two seconds until they were informed that the infant was premature, and needed special treatment.

It wasn't long before Claire was able to come home, but the baby needed to stay there a little longer. To say leaving their son there was the hardest thing Hershel and Claire ever did would have been an understatement. It was more than difficult, and much more complex than they could have described, it physically hurt both of them to leave their child in the hospital.

Desmond couldn't help but feel he could have done better for Claire and the baby. Hershel would have been a much more qualified driver to get Claire to the hospital quickly. After all, he had driven in apocalyptic type situations before. Desmond didn't know why he felt so incompetent as an uncle, but he couldn't wait until the day when baby was completely well and able to come home. He knew this was much harder for Claire and Hershel, but it was still hard for him as well. Sometimes he felt as if he should just leave and give the two new parents time alone, but they were too polite, even under such stress, to let Desmond leave because of that.

Desmond let out another sigh as threw the bedcovers to the end up the bed and swung his legs over the side. He put his head in his hands, running his fingers through his messy bed hair. He obviously wasn't going to fall asleep any time soon.

Heading down to the dimly lit kitchen, Desmond stood by the corner silently in the living room, hearing sniffling on the other side of the wall. It was Claire.

"I- I know the doctors keep telling us Alfendi will be fine, but isn't that what they would tell any worried parent? I want to be there with him right now, Hershel..." Claire stopped talking as her tears became more audible. Soon they were muffled, Desmond assumed Claire and Hershel were sharing an embrace.

"I know, Claire... I want to be with him too..." Hershel's voice also sounded drained and on the verge of tears. "Doctors are obligated to be completely honest with us. We need to trust that they're telling us the truth. I know this feels difficult and trying right now, but we will come out of this as stronger, better parents, Claire. We need to have patience right now, and that's all we can do. Time will only tell if Alfendi will pull through. We need to trust him too. After all, he is our son. If he has the same determination we do, he will be fine. He will start growing. We need to believe in him."

Claire's sorrow quieted down after some time. She took a deep, shaky breath and let it out, quietly whispering. "Hershel... I know you're right. I can feel it in my bones that he's going to pull through, but I still worry. I need to process this more on my own, but I'm too exhausted right now. I'm going to try to go back to sleep. Thank you, Sweetheart. Goodnight."

Although Desmond couldn't see what was happening, he knew what the silence meant. They were kissing. It was awhile before he heard them pull away from each other, and Hershel wished her goodnight, saying he would only be up just a while longer before joining her. Desmond quickly and silently hid in the shadows of the living room as Claire walked through, making her way upstairs. After that, he heard Hershel sigh loudly, then a chair being pulled out. The wooden chair creaked underneath Layton's weight as he sat on it.

Desmond waited a few minutes in the darkness before slowly walking into the kitchen, acting to still be groggy and tired as if he had just woken up. Hershel sat at the kitchen table with his head in his hands.

"Can't sleep?" Desmond asked quietly and lowly, making his presence known.

Hershel looked up tiredly with bloodshot eyes at his brother, shaking his head.

Desmond quietly walked over and seated himself across from Hershel. "Do you want to talk about it?"

Rubbing the back of his neck, Hershel shrugged. "I suppose I should. It's Alfendi..." He sighed.

"That's completely understandable, Hershel," Desmond condoled, feeling about just as incompetent to be the one being confided in. His confidence in everything was at an ultimate low, but he knew Hershel needed someone to be strong for him more than Desmond himself did. "Elaine and I had our fair share of challenges as parents. I know how emotionally trying it is. Especially during the first bit, pregnancy and birth. I know what it's like to be the overlooked father. Everyone looks after the mother, it's only natural. She's the one who is carrying the child. She deserves the attention, but for some reason you can't suppress your own feelings. It's your child too. What you feel is not wrong to feel. It's not selfish, it's normal."

Hershel tried not to let any emotion cross his face. "... I don't understand what you're saying, Desmond."

"What don't you understand?" Desmond inquired.

Layton waited in silence before he answered his question. To put into words what he was feeling was not an easy task. "What you said about being an overlooked father. I'm only concerned about my son, this isn't about me and how I feel."

"Hershel, this **is** about you. I'm telling you, it's not selfish to feel all of these things you're feeling."

"How is it not selfish? This has to be much harder for Claire. It **is** selfish for me to waste time dwelling in my own self pity, and I mustn't trouble Claire with that."

"You know she wants to be able to comfort you, right?" Desmond raised an eyebrow. "I know that's hard for you to see in your current state, but I know it's true from my own experience."

"Explain further, please," Layton still wasn't getting his point.

Desmond wished he didn't have to delve back into his past, but he knew it was essential for Hershel right now. He took a deep breath as he started his story. "Elaine and I had a miscarriage. I never speak of it because it just seems like another sad story to add to my tragic life... we never even had the chance to know the child's gender or even name them. It was as if it never existed to everyone around us, but to Elaine and I, it was losing our child. Even if we were able to conceive again, we knew this child was gone forever, and we would never have the opportunity to meet them. I stayed strong for Elaine and suppressed my emotions. She would cry herself to sleep for countless nights, and soon she started rejecting my comfort. I didn't know what I was doing wrong. One night when I tried to comfort her, she exploded. I remember the exact words she spoke. She said, 'How can you expect to comfort me when you don't even seem to care that our child is dead?!' That's when I finally realised. Elaine wasn't seeing me as her strong, comforting husband. She saw me as a indifferent, uncaring father. She didn't want me to be strong. She wanted me to be real with her and mourn with her. I had been holding everything in for so long, it wasn't hard for me to show her that I really did care, and that I was hurting immensely as well. It was such a relief to have her there to comfort me and cry with me. After that night, I wish I could say Elaine never had to lament our child's death again, but it wasn't that simple. However, from that point onwards, we did grieve together.

"The point is," Desmond continued. "I don't know how Claire is feeling. I don't know how you're feeling either, Brother. But I do know you need to be authentic and real with each other."

Layton thought deeply about Desmond's story. It didn't feel very gentlemanly to be emotional, but it was even more ungentlemanly to act indifferent. Not to mention, he was not honest with how he felt to Claire. He knew Desmond was right. "You're right," Hershel admitted. "Thank you for sharing that with me, Desmond. I know it was hard for you, and I'm so sorry for all of your tragic loss... but I'm grateful for your openness with me. I think I need to learn that. How to be more authentic about my feelings. Finding a balance of not letting emotion cloud my judgement, but also being open to those I'm close to. I've been seeming to confuse the two, especially around Claire. It appears I still have loads to learn as a husband and now father as well."

Desmond smiled, seeing his brother come to this revelation. "Indeed. I've plenty more advice from where that came from."

"Haha," Layton laughed quietly. "Perhaps you should save that for another time. I think it's about time we try to get some sleep."

"As long as you think you've been open enough for one night, I presume?" Desmond questioned.

"Yes, I feel my mindset has been refocused. Thank you, Brother," Layton stood up, ready to head back to sleep, but then realised Desmond had also come downstairs unable to sleep. "Is there something hindering you from sleep?"

Desmond ran a hand through his messy hair thinking about his dream. It almost seemed silly now. It wasn't reality, thank goodness. He smirked, feeling better from having had spent time with Hershel. He stood up. "Not anymore. It was good to have a talk with you. Goodnight, Brother."

* * *

 **My goal with this chapter was make your mouth drop open when you read the name Alfendi. ;p At first, I was going to make it Kat because she looks a lot like Claire! And I prefer to think Al was adopted, but then I came to realise that he could be part of the Bronev family... If ya wanna know all the details, I won't spoil it all right here, but PM me if you wanna know my reasoning!**

 **Stay tuned for the last two (probably two) chapters!**


	44. Everything is Okay Now

**Everybody** , **this is it! Stay tuned for the final bonus chapter (or two), so we can end it on a fun note, and perhaps help with that post story depression... It's real, guys. I've been working on this story FOREVER! I am excited to now focus on some other stories though. First, I plan on finishing my Randall story called "Who Am I?" (check it out if you've played Miracle Mask!) Then I'm going to need your help to know what to post next! Here's three options, let me know what you would like to see!**

 **1\. Desmond's life growing up, meeting Raymond, the Sycamores, and his wife**

 **2\. Emmy's life after Azran Legacy, and meeting Hugh**

 **3\. What Descole does after Azran Legacy on his "new adventure"**

 **I'm hoping to post all of them eventually, but let me know what you would enjoy reading first!**

 **THANK YOU TO ALL WHO READ ALL OF THAT!**

 **CrossoverLover2013: Your reviews always make me smile and help me to write the next chapter quicker knowing people like you enjoy reading it!**

 **Yoshi-G-teh-First: There's a bit more in this chapter about how Al could be related! Hope you enjoy the conclusion!**

 **chloemcg: Thanks for favouriting!**

* * *

"Welcome home, Baby Alfendi!" Flora greeted as Claire carried in her infant son in her arms, Hershel behind her closing the door as soon as they entered their home.

Claire sighed happily, looking down at her sleeping baby swaddled in her arms. A short, brownish red tuft of hair stuck out the front of the blanket at his forehead. "Everything finally feels right, all of us here together. I wouldn't want it any other way."

Desmond stepped forward next to Flora. "I feel the same way, Claire. I think this is a good reason to celebrate!"

"How so?" Hershel smirked.

"Why, with tea and biscuits of course!" Desmond announced dramatically. "Raymond, could yo—" Desmond stopped himself as he realised what he was saying. His joyfully countenance fell slightly, but he did his best to brush it off. "I mean, I'll go put the kettle on." Desmond swiftly left for the kitchen.

After Desmond filled the kettle, turned off the tap, then placed the kettle on the lit stovetop; he took a deep breath. Even with the happiness of having a new nephew, he still couldn't shake the sorrow of losing Raymond, the man who had been loyal to him for over thirty years of his life. He knew it was going to be something he constantly struggled with, just as all of his other loss was. Some days were better than others, and he was determined to make this one of the good days. A day that Jeannie, Elaine, and Raymond would be proud of. Desmond regained his composure and headed back to the living room.

Claire and Hershel were sitting on the sofa, and Flora kneeled by their feet to get a closer look and to admire the new tiny family member.

Desmond couldn't help but smile at the sight of his brother, sister in law, niece, and nephew. He thought back to something Aurora had told him. She believed that he still had the capacity to hope and even to love again. It seemed to be proven true in this moment. There was no doubt that he loved all of the people in this room.

"He definitely doesn't have your eyes, Professor!" Flora laughed, looking into Alfendi's olive eyes. "They don't really look like Claire's either... They're almost the same shape as Uncle Desmond's, though, even if the colour is a bit lighter!"

Everyone's gaze turned to Desmond, who was just coming into the room. As Claire and Hershel both examined Desmond's eyes, they looked back at their son.

"How strange... Claire noticed.

"I suppose that's something he inherited from Bronev..." Hershel realised. "One thing that is certain, he got his red hair from his mother."

"Are you sure?" Claire questioned. "I thought it seemed a bit brown, like yours, Hershel."

"Perhaps he has both of our hair colours, then," Hershel chuckled.

Just as Desmond was about to join them, the telephone rang.

"I'll get it," Desmond announced before heading over to the phone.

The other three by the sleeping baby continued to quietly discuss his different features.

Desmond picked up the telephone receiver and raised it to his ear. "Hello?"

"Desmond? It's Emmy."

"It's good to hear your voice again, Emmy. It's been quite awhile," Desmond said, happy to hear a familiar voice.

"Yes, it has. How's Alfendi doing? I got the letter from your family saying he was born, but he was quite premature."

"He actually just arrived home today, a few moments ago. He's doing just fine now."

"That's great. Desmond, I hate to cut the good news short, but I need your help. Tori doesn't have much longer."

Desmond's eyes grew a bit wider at this sad news. Ever since Swift's arrest, Tori had been living with Emmy. Although they had their disagreements, and were a bit antagonistic towards each other, Emmy chose to invite her into her home, not wanting Tori to have to be alone. Tori, having no where else to go, accepted.

"She's been so strong these past couple months, fighting for her life..."Emmy paused a moment. "and now she hasn't been out of bed for two days. She hasn't the strength anymore. I want you to try to decipher what Swift was reading. Perhaps there is some truth to it. Maybe there is a cure for her. We cannot let that chance go without investigating it. I would have called sooner, but I kept putting it off, and now there's not enough time to put it off any longer."

Desmond looked back at the happy group by Alfendi. "What exactly would that entail?"

"Don't worry, it won't be dangerous. I already have the Azran tablet to decipher here at my flat, but I don't trust my expertise. If anyone could completely and accurately translate it, it would be you, Professor Sycamore."

Desmond was silent for a few seconds as he thought about it. Simply reading Azran texts had gotten him into so much trouble before. He still despised the Azran, and wanted nothing to do with them. He had been enjoying focusing on science rather than archaeology now. The Azran were to blame for all the years he had lost with his brother.

"Don't say no to this just because Tori is Swift's daughter. She cannot control that, neither can she control the fact that she's going to die without some miracle. We need to discover this Azran secret. Our motives are pure. The Azran would respect that. Please, Desmond."

Hearing the urgency in Emmy's plea for help made it much more difficult for Desmond to decline. He sighed. "Alright. I suppose you want me to come immediately?"

"Naturally. Please don't make the professor or Claire feel like they need to come. I know they must have their hands full with the baby."

"Alright. I'll be there as soon as I can."

The words signifying that Desmond was leaving caught the attention of the others. All eyes were on Desmond.

As Desmond hung up the phone, Hershel asked, "Where are you going?"

"To Emmy's flat. I don't know how long I'll be," Desmond started towards the door.

"Aren't you going to explain why you're going?" Hershel questioned.

Desmond let out a short sigh. "To make a long story short, Tori isn't doing well, and Emmy wants me to translate the Azran text to make certain if there is a way to save her or not."

Hershel looked at his child, then back up at Desmond, realising he needed to be on hiatus from his adventure days, at least for a while. He was a father now.

"Don't worry, Hershel, I've got this. I'll be fine without you, believe it or not," Desmond smiled and opened the door. "The kettle's on, should be about to boil soon. Enjoy the tea for me. I'll pick up some more biscuits on my way back. Any requests?"

"Ooo! Jammie Dodgers!" Flora beamed. "And Jaffa Cakes, if that's okay, Uncle Desmond," Flora's eyes seemed to sparkle as she endearingly said his name.

Desmond laughed, knowing he couldn't say no. "Well, we wouldn't want to spoil your lunch, now would we? But I suppose this is a special occasion for celebrating Alfendi's homecoming. Jammie Dodgers and Jaffa Cakes it is."

"Yay!" Flora clapped as Desmond closed the door behind himself, still chuckling to himself.

After flying down the front stairs, Desmond jumped into his black car. He was actually excited to get out by himself for once. Hershel was always wanting to tag along even when Desmond was only taking a evening stroll to get some "alone" time. The normal schedule of life was getting to Desmond. He was ready for something new and out of the ordinary, even if it was just going to Emmy's place.

~•~•~•~

When he arrived, Emmy quickly let him in. "We need to be as quiet as possible. Tori is sleeping, and I don't want her to know you're here. I don't want her to get her hopes up. This illness has been too much of an emotional rollercoaster for the both of us."

"I understand," Desmond whispered, following Emmy to the small blue tablet on the tea table in her living room. Desmond was more hesitant to read the text the closer he got to it. What if his family really was involved in something extraordinary? What would that mean for Alfendi? Desmond let a short breath out before seating himself on the black leather sofa. Starting to decipher the words, he was starting to see where Swift had come up with his reasoning.

"To the ancestry with the greatest knowledge of the Azran, take heed. It is your honour and privilege to have any knowledge you desire, any information you ask for, even wisdom of how to heal the sick. One wish of yours shall be granted. All that we require in return is each of your bloods. Bring them to us."

"It stops there?" Desmond questioned. "It feels as if there should be something before and after. Perhaps a location where this needs to happen. How did Swift get all of his information from this?"

"That's what I thought as well. Swift must have studied it intensely, coming up with all sorts of bizarre scenarios," Emmy observed.

"You know... the most puzzling bit is that there are supposedly four people who are related, knowing much about the Azran, and yet this stone says nothing about the number four."

"My reasoning was that Swift first assumed it meant Uncle Leon, Professor Layton, and yourself. When shedding your three bloods didn't work, he realised there must be a fourth."

"But Alfendi knows nothing yet, and definitely not anything about the Azran... Swift's logic aside, more importantly, how would the Azran know so many specifics aeons in advance?" Desmond's thinking face soon changed. His eyes grew wide. He stood up in excitement, but still did his best to keep a quiet voice. "That's it! That's the final piece we've been overlooking."

"What is?" Emmy asked.

"The fact that the Azran presumably knew about the Bronev family. If the Azran really had the power to predict the future, then they would have known their soon coming demise. The Azran would have had the power to stop the golems from overtaking them. There's no possible way they would have known about the Bronevs."

"That's true..." Emmy pondered. "So what does this mean, then?" Emmy gestured an open palm towards the blue slate on the table.

Desmond thought a moment, observing the edges of the plaque. "I cannot say for certain with only this much to go on. It doesn't appear to be broken off, but I believe there is more to it. If we only knew where Swift had excavated this from, perhaps we could find the other pieces or at least clues. Without the rest, I can only make an educated guess. I believe that this is part of an Azran legend. I'd wager that it's a legend connected to the Garden of Healing. Each of the Azran Legacies each had their own purpose. Ambrosia was the City of Harmony, and of all arts for that matter, and the Garden of Healing was like the largest medical centre the Azran had. If we wanted knowledge on healing, there would be our best hope."

Emmy's arms were crossed. She raised an eyebrow in doubt. "Why would Swift just stop with this piece? Surely he would have realised there are more pieces."

"Perhaps he was satisfied with the theory he came up with."

Emmy still appeared doubtful. "Alright. Suppose I believed that bit, but the rest of your theory sounds pretty unbelievable to me."

"Listen, Emmy. Aurora was somehow able to bring us back to life by the power of the Azran. I'm not one to believe in fairy tales, but taking Tori to the Golden Garden might be worth a shot. The air there helped cure Arianna."

"But Tori doesn't have a respiratory illness, like Arianna's was," Emmy argued.

"What other choice do you have, Emmy?" Desmond asked seriously. "You asked me to find one more chance for Tori, and I believe this is it. I wish I could go on an expedition to find more concrete answers to be sure, but the truth is, Tori doesn't have enough time. The Garden of Healing could be her last hope, and we need to try."

Emmy waited a moment in stubbornness. "I think Tori deserves this chance... but it doesn't make it any easier for me. I've been looking after her and taking care of her for half a year now. Having her around has been challenging... It's been so hard to find time to spend with Hugh more than ever. But more importantly, it's been rewarding to have Tori here. Losing her is something so hard for me to come to terms with. The hardest part about getting close to her was already knowing that she could die any day." Emmy's voice broke as she held back tears. Unashamed, she brought her teary gaze to Desmond, who was still sitting on the sofa. Emmy seated herself next to him on the arm of the sofa. "I'm sorry, Professor Sycamore, but I can't do this. Hope hurts too much once it's lost."

Desmond sighed in empathy, gazing back at his heartbroken friend. "I'm so sorry, Emmy. I would completely understand if you didn't want to come along."

"Even if I didn't come with you to Misthallery, I would still be waiting here with my hopes up," Emmy shrugged.

"So what are we waiting for?" A weak voice from the hall called. Soon, the clicks from Tori's walking stick and her footsteps could be heard as she walked out into the main room. She appeared from around the corner seeming very unstable. "I say we give it a shot," Tori smirked slightly, appearing to have been awake for awhile. Her hair was in a messy bun, and she wore very casual, comfortable clothes, but her voice did not sound as if she had just awoken. Even with her cane, she was very frail and wobbly.

Emmy stood up and sighed, walking closer to her, afraid she might fall. Emmy reached out for her arm, but Tori moved out of her grasp. Emmy rolled her eyes. "Tori, how long have you been listening?"

"Now's not the time for questions, let's be on our way," Desmond persuaded.

~•~•~

The trio made their way to the Golden Garden, Desmond driving them to Misthallery. Their journey was long and tiring, but it was well worth it once they had arrived.

Upon entering the garden, memories from years before came back to Emmy and Desmond. As they helped Tori in, her eyes lit up for the first time in months. "This place is absolutely beautiful... I think just looking at this view could cure me..."

Desmond let out a breath. "Emmy, I'm going to go explore a bit to see if I can find some answers."

"Alright. We'll be here," Emmy said, helping Tori to sit down on the bank by a river.

As Desmond began to traverse the tropical surroundings, he wasn't sure where to start. Targent had been in control of the Golden Garden a few years prior, and probably had excavated everything throughly. Once he was far enough away that Emmy and Tori would be able to hear him, he looked up and hesitated to speak. He felt this was probably his last idea he had.

"Um... Light of the Azran? I believe that's how Aurora put it..." Desmond scratched the back of his neck, feeling awkward speaking to seemly no one. He had come all this way, he needed to at least try. "I need to ask a favour of you. I've given my life to research your legacy. I was there when the legacy was unleashed. I sort of assisted in saving humanity... so having that in mind, I wondered if I could ask something of you... I stumbled upon a text saying that those with the greatest knowledge of the Azran are able to acquire more knowledge on your behalf. I need a cure for a friend. She is ill and this is our last hope. Please."

Desmond waited as he doubted anything would happen. He didn't move for a few seconds as he still hoped. After about ten seconds, he stopped holding his breath. He was about to leave, but then he heard rustling. A warm breeze began to grow. He turned back around, waiting to see what was happening, if his plea had been answered.

A floating girl with glowing countenance and powerful blue eyes appeared. It had been awhile, but Desmond would recognise her anywhere.

"Aurora?!" He gasped, not sure whether he should be overjoyed or frightened. His heart pounding in anticipation, he waited silently to see what would happen.

Her hair seemed to be floating around her as well, as if she didn't have to obey the law of gravity. She levitated closer to Desmond, before her feet lowered to the ground. Her eyes still glowed as she spoke. Her voice echoed through the garden. "The Azran have seen your great determination. Your heart strives to be pure, and you wish to save your friend. The Azran admire your spirit. You've been amending for past wrongs, and have turned from a dark path. The Azran will grant your request. All your friend needs to do is to drink daily for the springs of healing, until she shall be healed."

Desmond stood still in shock. Was this really all she needed to do? Was it this simple? He supposed be just had to believe it as the truth. He was not sure of what to say. "Thank you..." He started, then one more wish came to his mind. "I know I said I had one request... but I have to know the answer to this: I know the Azran have the power to bring life back. I have experienced it myself. How... how was it possible?"

"We have our ways, but it is not something explainable to humans. The Azran are indeed limited by time, if you had been dead any longer, the deed would not have been possible. Once time takes its toll on human flesh, sometimes there is nothing we can do to restore life."

Desmond's heart dropped at hearting the truth. He knew it was true, but he didn't want to admit it. Once someone was gone, there was nothing he could do to make them come back, no matter how terribly much he wanted them to. "Alright. I have one final request, if I may ask another... may I speak with Aurora?"

The girl's eyes ceased to glow as she seemed to be more aware of her surroundings. Her eyes didn't take long to lock onto the familiar man in front of her.

"Aurora?" Desmond asked again, making sure it wasn't just a dream.

"Professor...?" Her voice sounded confused. "How did I get here?"

"I don't know, Aurora, but..." Desmond reached his hands out and rested them on her shoulders. She was really there. He pulled the precious girl into an embrace. "I'm so sorry... For betraying you and everyone else that trusted me. I let my goals become too important to me. More important than what really mattered. You, my brother... Luke and Emmy."

Aurora smiled, happy to be in his arms, just as she was the very moment she awoke from the ice before she even knew Desmond. She remembered this is what Emmy had called a "hug". She returned it by put her arms around Sycamore, resting her hands on his back. "You know I've already forgiven you. I know how much you were hurting, and I'm glad to see you've forgiven yourself and moved on. I'm so glad you've found happiness, and the ability to love and to hope. That was one of my last wishes for you before I vanished."

"Thank you, Aurora... I was happy travelling the world with you all... but I didn't realise it until it was gone. I took you and all the others for granted."

"Everything is okay now, Professor."

Hearing Aurora's sweet voice say those words made him sigh in relief. He believed it. Everything was okay.

"I'm afraid the Azran are calling me back," Aurora spoke quietly, unmoving in Desmond's embrace, as if she would break the moment if she spoke any louder. "I really wish I could stay... but until I am needed to send a message for the Azran... I must go. I am still hoping that they will eventually send me to earth reborn as a human being. Nothing would make me happier."

Desmond's eyes saddened. He closed his eyes as he ran a hand through her soft blonde hair. He didn't know how it was possible for her to not be human already. The warmth from her body... her personality was her own. He cared for her. She was his friend, as much as Descole had tried to talk Sycamore out of it, he really did care. "Then that is my final wish for you, my darling. That you might someday be able to be human."

"Thank you, Professor," Aurora said sincerely.

Desmond felt her warmth leave his grasp, and soon he opened his eyes, realising she was no longer there. As sparkles floated away in the breeze, he realised she was right: everything was okay.

And so it was. Tori and Emmy stayed in Misthallery following what Desmond had told them. The doctors were shocked when they saw that her health improved, and that eventually all symptoms of her illness had vanished. Nothing could logically explain what had happened in her body.

For once in Desmond's life, he was happy to go back to living a normal life. Perhaps he missed the adrenaline rushes a bit, as well as the thrill of a chase, but he was content able to live somewhere he could call home. Yes, London was his home, but more importantly than a location, it was the people he was with. Hershel, Claire, Flora, and Alfendi all made him feel like he belonged.

Life was far from perfect, but it was enough, and that was all Desmond needed.

* * *

 **The end.**

 **THANK YOU ALL FOR READING!**

 **Please let me know what you thought of the entire story, and remember to let me know which out of the three options at the top you would be interested in reading next!**


	45. The Loo (Bonus Chapter)

**So this is a bonus chapter that takes place way at the beginning of the story, after Descole wakes up from the surgery and takes on the name Desmond again. It's a really fun, a little weird, chapter. I debated actually posting it, but I guess now I'll see if it was a good idea or not. Enjoy!**

 **CrossoverLover2013: Your review was so kind! It made my day! Thanks for letting me know what you thought, and we will see what everyone else votes for as my next story!**

* * *

"Why are you smiling like an imbecile, Layton?" Descole muttered weakly, just having awoken from a coma he was believed to never wake from.

A happy laugh escaped Layton at seeing Descole awake. "I've never been so happy to be called an imbecile. You don't know how relieved I am to see you awake."

Descole had finally awoken. It was looking like he really was going to pull through after all. A long road to recovery was ahead of him, but he was determined. He had heard how desperate Layton was to put an end to Targent. He couldn't leave his brother to face them alone. He was going to do whatever it took to help him, and he hung onto the hope that he could make things better for his brother. He reassumed the name of Desmond Sycamore now that he was living for hope and not for revenge.

The first day was the hardest mentally for Desmond, admitting that he needed help with basically everything. After a few hours of his awaking, Desmond started shifting towards the end of his bed. He grimaced as he cautiously moved his legs off of the bed. Every single muscle in his body felt stiff and sore all at the same time.

Just then, Layton walked into the room. He had been at a meeting with Doctor Wattford. His face changed to a look of surprise and confusion. "Where do you think you're going, Desmond? Don't tell me you've gone mad again."

Desmond rolled his eyes. "Why must you ridicule me, Layton—"

Layton raised an eyebrow.

"Forgive me," Desmond sneered again. "I meant _**Hershel**_. I'm still working on remembering to call you that. Being brotherly isn't something I have much experience with."

Layton only chuckled. "It's good to see you're feeling well enough to be sarcastic."

"I was trying to be serious..." Sycamore sighed. "As much as you want to believe I'm the same man you travelled the world with... I'm not. I've changed considerably since then. Sycamore and Descole have adopted habits from each other, yes... and yet I'm still trying to figure out who I really am right now... also, my jokes have gotten much better since our adventure," Desmond smirked.

Hershel laughed once again.

Desmond put his hands on the bed beside himself, about to stand.

"Desmond!"

"What?! You're standing like a normal human being! Why can I not do the same?!"

"Need I remind you that you were nearly _dead_ just a few hours ago? You need to give yourself time before you go strolling about. You need to rest."

"I need the loo, alright?!" Desmond exploded, but was mostly just embarrassed.

Layton stood there also uncomfortable, not sure how to answer him. After a few seconds, Hershel tried to form an answer. "You... what?"

"Yes, you heard me correctly. I need the loo. The water closet. The toilet. You're human, you should understand that need. Quit your condescending gawping at me as if I'm the only one in the world who excretes bodily fluids."

"I'm sorry, it's just... you have a bedpan for that," Layton reminded.

Desmond's face only became more red. Layton understood it wasn't from anger, but most likely embarrassment.

"I refuse to be that helpless," He answered him, self-conscious about his situation. "I can walk just fine."

Layton again took a long pause. He found himself having to take many breaks in between what Desmond said and what he said, to avoid upsetting him with the blatant truth. He tried to soften the blow by changing the wording sometimes, but it seemed right now the plain truth is what he needed to hear. "You are helpless, whether you like it or not, Desmond. You need assistance from others."

Sycamore closed his eyes and let out a breath in the way a delinquent adolescent would when they were told they weren't allowed to do something.

"I can ask someone to assist you to... the toilet, if you insist upon not using the bedpan."

Desmond's face was straight. "I'm not sure which is more humiliating."

"It's nothing to be embarrassed about. Like you said, it's something all humans do."

"In solitude," Desmond shot back.

"Right now you have two options," Hershel ignored his remark. "You can either use the bedpan or have a nurse take you to the toilet. It's your choice," Hershel said.

"Is it really, though? I don't feel as if I have much a choice in anything right now," Sycamore sighed.

"I know this is hard, but it won't be long until you're feeling better and gaining your independence back."

"'Independence'... sounds absolutely lovely. Ngh!" Desmond grimaced, clenching his teeth and closing his eyes tightly, placing a hand over his stomach, from where he had had surgery.

"You're still very weak, Desmond. Even just sitting up will fatigue you greatly."

"Then let's get this over with! I would put it off longer, but I've already been doing that for three hours!"

"Alright. I'll ask about someone coming to assist you," Layton started towards the door.

"Be sure to ask them if you can help me instead," Desmond said flatly. "They seem to trust you with taking care of me."

Hershel stopped in his tracks. Turning around, he stared at Desmond, who appeared to be serious.

"You... meant that, didn't you?" Layton questioned fearfully.

"Yes. If I have to be humiliated, I might as well make this unpleasant for you, as well," Sycamore said in a spiteful tone. "And I also know you will honour my privacy once we make it to the lavatory. Correct?"

"I suppose... if you really believe you can handle it by yourself."

"Are you really that eager to clean my bum off when I'm finished?"

Layton put his palm to his face, wondering how his brother could be so ungentlemanly at times. "You're not making this any easier for either of us."

"That's the point," Desmond was almost proud now for creating a disturbing atmosphere. "Remember, 'it's nothing to be embarrassed about,' Brother dear," He smirked.

Layton sighed loudly. "You're lucky I already agreed to do whatever I could for you..." Hershel muttered as he left the room.

"Hah," Desmond still smirked, knowing he had turned the tables of embarrassment. He realised he really did miss having his brother around. He had gotten to know him quite well on their trip around the world, and he knew how to make him uncomfortable and how to push his buttons. Now was the time to put that knowledge to the test. What he had been dreading the past three hours, he now was delighted to see how excruciating he could make this for his brother.


	46. Uncle Desmond

**This is the final bonus chapter, and it fits into the end of the story timeline. I chose to make it a bonus chapter because it's mainly fluff and doesn't add to the story plot, but... warning, it will be a cuteness overload! I really love this chapter, and hope you do too!**

 **Thank you everyone for sticking with this story until the very end!**

 **Yoshi-G-teh-First: I guess you're right! Hershel should get used to it! xD Thanks for your suggestion! I will see which idea gets the most voted and go from there! Thanks again for reviewing faithfully!**

* * *

The cries of a baby awoke Desmond. Again. For the millionth night in a row.

Although the Laytons had moved to a slightly bigger home to accommodate their growing family, it still wasn't big enough for Desmond's refined tastes. He truly missed living in a mansion, where he could have simply walked to the other side of the manor to sleep in a spare room to escape any annoyance. But here there were no extra rooms, and his room was right next to his screaming nephew's room. Sandwiching his head between two pillows to drown out the screeching, Desmond thought back to when his daughter was a baby. Jeannie had never cried this much, and when she did cry, it wasn't anywhere near this piercing to the ear.

"This Alfendi is certainly going to turn out to be quite the character..." Desmond muttered as he pulled the pillow off of his head, threw the blankets off of himself, and shuffled to the edge of his bed. Instead of trying to sleep, he decided Hershel and Claire must be exhausted of trying to get this mad child to go to sleep the past few weeks he had been home. Maybe he could assist somehow for a bit.

After stuffing his feet into his slippers and throwing on his burgundy silk robe, he headed for Alfendi's room.

Silently opening the door, he found Hershel gently rocking and shushing the sobbing baby in his arms, trying to soothe him. A soft yellowish light filled the room from the dresser in the left corner. Hershel was standing on the opposite side of the room by Alfendi's cradle. Desmond entered the room with a frown on his face.

Hershel turned to see his brother, and sighed. "We've tried everything. Claire has already fed him, his nappy has been changed... And now he's getting special attention from his doting father at half past two in the morning; and even that doesn't seem to impress him... I'm afraid this is a puzzle I don't know the answer to."

Desmond looked down at the whining bundle in his brother's arms. As always, a little cowlick of Alfendi's reddish hair stuck out of place. "I wish I could say I had some hint coins for you, but honestly, I'm not exactly sure how to deal with this either. Jeannie never was quite this vocal as an baby..." Desmond put a hand to his chin. "Perhaps I should give it a go."

Hershel chuckled. "You don't really strike me as a baby person... and I doubt Alfendi would calm down for someone, especially since his own parents can't calm him... but, be my guest," Hershel handed his son wrapped in a blanket over to Desmond, who had only held Alfendi a handful of times since he had been born. He was about a month old now. It wasn't that he didn't want to hold him, but he found it hard to get a chance, especially when Flora was around.

As Desmond held the crying child against his chest, swaying him slowly side to side, Alfendi's sharp cries started fading. Desmond quickly looked up at his brother, clearly confused. Hershel looked just as confused as he did. Desmond continued, and soon the little cries vanished into silence.

Hershel raised an eyebrow. "Imagine that," Hershel whispered. "I'm almost jealous of you... but actually this is very good news for me... and Claire. I guess there's no need for me to stay up if he prefers your company," Hershel shrugged, heading for the door.

"Where are you going?!" Desmond whispered forcefully. "He's your son!"

"And he's your nephew," Hershel smiled, putting a hand on the doorknob.

"Don't you dare leave me here with him, Layton!" Descole growled, his gentle, loving hold on the baby seemed to change to more of a 'I don't want to hold this anymore' grasp. Following Layton to the door, Descole held Alfendi out, one hand under the back of his neck, the other hand under his body, as if he were handing him back to Layton. Alfendi started to stir again, beginning to cry. "He's your child, meaning your responsibility!"

Hershel only chuckled, not taking baby Alfendi from Descole. "Come now, be reasonable. I'm handing the responsibility to you because he apparently needs you. You'd do this for me and for him, wouldn't you? Sacrifice just a few hours of sleep for your nephew's sake?"

"Do you really trust me to be alone with this tiny human?" Descole's pupils narrowed in anger, putting the baby closer to his body, just to get him to stop crying.

"Of course. Good night, Brother."

"Pfah," Descole rolled his eyes. "Good night to you too, Brother. To the one who actually gets to sleep."

Layton closed the door behind himself.

Descole looked down at his nephew in his arms. "You're quite a manipulative little child, aren't you?"

Alfendi, who had stopped crying, only looked around at room, and his glance travelled up to his uncle's upset face.

"Acting daft, are we? Don't pretend I don't know what you're up to. I know you solely want to make my life miserable."

His eyes still exploring the dimly lit room, Alfendi didn't make a sound.

Descole sighed in annoyance. "Fine. Let's get this over with..."

Descole sat in the wooden rocking chair next to the cradle and rested Alfendi against his chest. Almost immediately, Descole's anger simmered away. It was hard to stay angry when he held his precious nephew. Desmond was reminded that he wouldn't stay this pure and innocent forever, so he savoured this tired, exhausting moment that he shared with Alfendi. Looking down at Alfendi, whose eyes were now becoming heavy, a content smile crept across Desmond's face as he sighed happily. Alfendi's tiny fists by his face seemed to relax as he felt his uncle's warmth. Desmond rested his stiff muscles in the uncomfortable chair. He looked forward to more tiring, sleepless nights like these. He would willingly take as many of them as he could get.


End file.
